


Vendetta

by MissSilverWings



Series: The Carolina Connection [2]
Category: NCIS
Genre: Adventure, Angst, Comfort, Drama, Eventual Romance, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-31
Updated: 2015-10-31
Packaged: 2018-04-29 03:00:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 50,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5113643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissSilverWings/pseuds/MissSilverWings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The  Carolina Connection Series: Book 1 part 2: Vendetta</p><p>Alvada wants her dead! Gibbs, Molly & Roger are on the run from ruthless mercenaries. Tony is up to his ears in a massive operation to save them. Tim & Abby are hard at work in the lab.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

* * *

 

He was a big, burly man with a shaved head and muscles like steel. Blue eyes squinted through the smoke of a cigarette that perpetually hung from the corner of his mouth. A fatigue shirt matched the fatigue pants tucked into regulation military boots spoke of his background and training. The weapons he was examining told of his expertise in nearly all things military. Nobody knew his birth name; he was known only as 'Tank'.

Tank had a group of ex-special forces mercenaries who served now in a different kind of army, the one formed by Tank. Assignments were always different. They did everything from locating stolen children anywhere in the world and returning them home to assassinating someone's enemy. Or whatever was required by a client.

Once Tank accepted what he called a mission, everything at his disposal would be used to accomplish the end goal. It was an interesting life, it paid well, and Tank's 'troops' were not too particular about what they might be called on to do.

This new mission now in effect should be an easy one but no detail was overlooked, the plan was carefully thought through and revised as needed until it was as perfect as it could be.

A short time later, a sleek black private jet sporting a slim gold stripe down its sides left a private airport in Texas and deposited Tank, his people and equipment at a small airport near Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, where private jets came and went on a regular basis; nobody would pay any attention to them. Necessary vehicles were in place as ordered and they were ready to ride.

In their absence, the pilots of the gleaming jet would get a bite to eat at the airport's snack bar, see that the jet was fully serviced and fueled, then stand by for a quick departure at an unknown time.

 

Alvada sat in the back of the SUV gazing at the backs of the heads of the two Troopers taking him to jail. They had no idea what was coming. He himself didn't know the how or when but he knew they were coming. No one would have understood his self-satisfied smile had it been seen. The high monthly retainer he paid for this 'insurance' was well worth it.

Highway signs now listed remaining miles to Myrtle Beach. Not a whole lot longer; Wilmington is only about sixty miles on the other side of Myrtle Beach. After turning their prisoner over to local authorities, the pair would secure hotel rooms, shower, sleep, then drive back to Charleston. Piece of cake.

Jordon, one of the Troopers, wondered about Alvada's demeanor. He was totally silent, sat composed and still, even napping a little. He never asked for anything, he was completely compliant to any instructions given to him. Altogether, not really the behavior he expected from a man headed to prison for the rest of his life. He shrugged it off. People are just strange and there's no way to predict how they will respond in circumstances like this.

Whatever. He was sure looking forward to some sleep. He and his partner had come on duty at three o'clock that afternoon so by the time they reached Wilmington and got to their rooms, they would have been on duty for nearly thirteen hours.

He could hang on a little longer and he'd be back home before he knew it. Maybe he could find something in one of the many shops in downtown Wilmington for his wife's birthday. It would be the first birthday they would celebrate since they had married four months earlier and he wanted to get her something really special.

His thoughts of the beautiful girl waiting for him in Charleston and his fatigue degraded his skills of observation and situational awareness. Before either he or Cal, his partner, could react, three big black SUVs raced into place on a deserted section of highway and boxed them in, forcing them to a stop.

Masked men in military attire and thin black leather gloves piled out of the vehicles, high-powered rifles pointed straight at them. Others wrenched doors open and dragged the Troopers out, making them lie face-down in the dirt as they were disarmed.

 

Another worked Alvada free from his chains, put gloves on his hands, then rushed him into one of the black vehicles where a fine suit of clothing awaited him, along with a thermos of very hot Colombian coffee. Add a cigar and he'd be content for the moment. Tank spared no expense or thought in taking care of his clients.

As Alvada was getting out of the ugly jumpsuit, two muffled shots rang out in the dark deserted night. Piling back into their vans, Alvada and his rescue group sped off to the jet that had brought them here, leaving no hint of their identity behind.

Tank lit another cigarette and grinned. Time in and out: one minute, fifteen seconds. Oorah!

The vans were parked in a neat row at the airport with keys in their ignitions and the quiet group walked purposefully to the jet. They were gone before anyone knew they had been there.

Alvada was gone.

 

* * *

 

 

Gibbs wasn't sure what Molly was up to but he knew it had to be something. Her eyes didn't sparkle like that unless she was. She had asked him to show her on the public transportstion map how to get to a certain area but she wouldn't tell him why. He offered to take her wherever she wanted to go but she thanked him saying this was something she had to do herself in reestablishing her life.

He had watched her ever since he had brought her to Washington and had gotten to know her character. There was such a unique depth to her, wisdom that was ordinarily found in a person much, much older. But, considering the circumstances in her life, it was probably to be expected.

Armed with her map and Roger at her side, she happily set off toward the closest bus stop. The fresh, cool early spring air felt so good on her face. The land was coming back to life as flowers began poking their sleepy heads up and grass was turning greener every day.

For the first time since the terrible events back home in Wilmington, she felt a genuine sparkle of happiness in herself begin to come to life again. It had been a long, hard road to get back to this point and she felt an enormous sense of relief knowing that she would be able to go forward and make a new life for herself. Reaching her destination would be that first real step back.

Her destination turned out to be a car dealership. Inside, she met with a salesman she had already spoken with on the phone.

Outside that dealership, a grey Ford 250 truck set idling at the curb a very short distance down the street. Clear blue eyes took in everything in the area, then watched as Molly, with Roger in the passenger seat, pulled out of the car lot in a brand new shiny red - - - Jeep? Judging by the big happy smile on her face, she was thoroughly pleased with her purchase. He smiled. Why not? That's what she's happy with so she should have one.

With a chuckle and a grin, Gibbs pulled into a driveway to turn around when another vehicle pulled out into the line of traffic several cars behind Molly. His smile disappeared and his stomach came to life. Turning around quickly, he fell in line a car or two behind that vehicle. He had seen that Black SUV with the heavily tinted windows on the way to the lot as he had followed Molly on the bus route. Now it falls in behind her? He picked up his cell phone and punched a number in it.

"MacKenzie."

"Molly, keep it together - but you're being followed. Go straight to the Navy Yard now. I'm not far behind you so I've got your back."

The next call was placed.

"DiNozzo."

"Stop whatever you're doing and get to the Navy Yard. Molly is on the way there now with a tail, but I'm behind them. Alert security to stay sharp. Don't know what's up. When Molly gets there, get her inside immediately."

"On it, Boss!"

The produce truck that had conveniently been between Gibbs and the black SUV slowed and turned off. Gibbs kept a some distance between himself and the SUV ahead of him, hoping that he'd not be noticed, when suddenly, the big black vehicle peeled out and passed Molly, roaring on down the highway at high speed.

Without warning, Molly hit the gas and served out building speed as she was slowly closing the distance between her Jeep and the SUV, weaving in and out of traffic.

"DAMMIT, MOLLY!!" Gibbs yelled as if she could hear him.

Calling his SFA back, DiNozzo had no trouble hearing the raw anger in the Boss' voice. "Molly's taken off after them. Go to the Yard, I'll call you back as soon as I catch her!"

Without waiting for a response, the call was abruptly ended. DiNozzo knew the newest and youngest member of their team was in for one patented Gibbs' blasting whenever he did catch her.

Finally, the SUV, which outpowered the spunky Jeep, lengthened the distance between them as traffic thinned out; Molly eased up on the gas. She was furious, enraged; not even that described it!

No way – NO WAY were any of these jerks going to hurt her again! She also made up her mind that from now on, the shotgun was going to be standard equipment in this Jeep.

That's how she had survived all those years before and she'd do it again. She had earned a reputation amongst the drug crowd over time and they respected her, were even a bit afraid of her. They never knew where or when she was going to turn up.

Pulling off to a stop in the huge parking lot of a shopping center, she sat calming her ragged breathing, her shaking hands still gripping the wheel. Someone suddenly approached and took her by the shoulder. In one split second, the Sig was in her hand and aimed straight at a startled Gibbs.

In his own anger, he had forgotten to approach her cautiously until he could assess her mindset. Thankfully, the instant she recognized him, the muzzle of the Sig dropped and it was put back into her belt.

Looking into her face and her eyes, he didn't even have to ask a question; he saw the answers clearly. But she was still wrong, dammit! He'd hold that until later.

"You okay, Molly?" His voice was quiet and soft. After seeing her eyes, he knew loud would only worsen the situation.

"Yeah." Her voice was quiet but curt. Gibbs also knew that had the Jeep been able to stay with the more powerful SUV, she'd still be in the chase, not quitting until she either ran out of gas, or got the SUV stopped by whatever means necessary.

"Head back to the Yard."

Her angry eyes glanced at him once, then she started the engine and headed for the highway again. Gibbs got into his truck, watching to see that she turned to the right direction to get to the Yard, not after the SUV again. He realized that it shouldn't surprise him if she did that, either.

At the Yard, DiNozzo was standing in their parking area when a red Jeep turned in followed by a grey truck.

Molly killed the engine and sat unmoving, staring at the side of the building, still agitated inside and very, very angry. None of them had ever seen her like this. She had always had an upbeat, sunny demeanor but undoubtedly she had a fierce temper when pushed far enough.

Gibbs caught DiNozzo's eye sending him a slight shake of the head. Standing back, the SFA waited until Gibbs approached the Jeep, watching.

"Molly?" Gibbs' voice was calm. "Gotta go inside, Molly."

After a moment, she turned to face her boss, saying in a low but tight voice without remorse and deadly serious, "Yell - or whatever you need to, Gibbs. I'm not ever letting one of them get the drop on me again. I'll kill every last single one of them myself, if I have to. Just don't get in my way."

With that, she removed the keys from the ignition and signaled Roger to follow her. She went straight into the building, through security, up the stairs and into the bullpen. She picked up Roger's waterbowl, filled it at the restroom sink, then sat at her desk and turned on her computer.

"What are you doing, Molly?"

Without looking at him, she answered, "You want a report, don't you? I'm gonna write it."

Observing her, Gibbs saw that Molly, as she was at this moment, and Roger, when they first saw him put into his military harness in the hotel in Wilmington, were just alike. As the shepherd had been, she was now - ready to rock and roll, kick ass and take names later. The only problem with it is that she's a federal agent now, not a lone DEA agent fighting on the lawless frontier of a drug war. Now he also saw how she had survived all that time alone.

"Molly, stop."

Face hard and immoble, she looked at him for further explanation, fingers still on he keyboard.

"We need to talk. I gave you a direct order today – which you ignored. That can't be ignored."

"Do what you need to do, Gibbs. You won't hear me complain." There was an undercurrent of ice cold determination beneath that Southern voice.

"I'll deal with that later. We have bigger problem to deal with right now. We have no idea how many of these people there are. They found you today. I have no idea what their intent was."

Her roiling anger burst to the surface again. "How did they ever find me? I felt safe here - and now they want to take that away from me, too! Wasn't all the stuff at home enough? Today I felt a little happiness begin to return. I was reestablishing my life from what they destroyed. I should have done what my instinct said and go after those bastards!"

"No, Molly. No telling what you would have run into. This way is better. None of us will let them get near you, okay?"

Molly looked sadly at him as she said, "Gibbs, you know as well as I do it's nearly impossible to keep somebody safe 24/7. There's always a gap and, if these people found me, they'll find the gap. I don't like runnin'. Have to keep them runnin'. Always keep the upper hand."

Gibbs wanted to refute it but knew she was telling the truth. The only way they could have tracked her to the car dealership was to have followed her on the bus system; maybe spotted her at one of the bus stops as she changed buses – which would mean they had a photo of her. Taken by who? He wondered if they knew where the house was, but if they didn't, they surely would soon enough.

Tony had remained quiet as he listened to the conversation. "Boss, I've got room. They probably don't know where I live."

"We don't know how long she's been under surveillance or if they have tracked each one of us, too. Today could have been the day they made their move when they thought the opportunity appeared."

Gibbs sat at his desk for a moment, eyes narrowed as he thought. He sensed that Molly was on the edge of a complete meltdown from all that happened over the last year and a half. She was ready to take on all comers, willing to do whatever she had to do to survive, no matter what that may entail. He needed to get her to a safe place and get her to decompress while there was still time to bring her back from the edge.

His decision made on his plan of action, he got to his feet, telling Tony to take Molly home and for Molly to pack sturdy clothing, boots, a book or something to last possibly a couple of weeks. Then they were to return to the Yard.

"Gibbs, I'm not runnin'!"

"Go with Tony, Molly. That's an order!"

Standing above her, arms crossed, fierce blue eyes demanding obedience in his determined face, Molly studied him for so long that Tony was afraid that she was going to refuse, but at last she stood up from her desk, gave him a push so she could pass and marched out of the 'pen to the stairs.

Roger had stood, watching the proceedings, ready to defend his beloved mistress if necessary.

Tony was glad that he wouldn't be closed in the elevator with the two of them. He wasn't sure he'd survive the one floor ride.

After they left, Gibbs got to work on his phone, his heart still pounding.

Molly was quiet on the drive to Gibbs' home. Tony tried to reassure her. "You'll be okay, MollyMac. The Boss would cut off his right arm if he thought it would keep you safe. And while you're up there all kicked back and relaxing, the rest of us will be working around the clock looking for these people."

Trying to breathe her anger away, she responded in a tightly controlled voice, "Thanks, Tony. I know all of you will do your best. I think I should be here to do my part. I'm the one they're after; I should be the bait. Let them face me and see who is still standing at the end!"

At the house, she first changed into the rugged clothes and boots Gibbs had advised, then threw more of the same clothing and a heavy jacket into a duffle bag with her personal things, toiletries and a couple of books.

While Molly was packing, Tony located a bag and packed it for the boss and tossed it along with Molly's bag in the big trunk of the agency sedan.

Next, Molly collected a humongous bag of dogfood, Roger's food and water bowls and his long leash, and all that went into the trunk.

Then she loaded Tony down with her new shotgun and a Ruger 7.62 rifle and a large pouch full of ammo and clips for both. Looking inside the pouch, Tony whistled. She could fight a fair-sized war with this!

Lastly, she clipped Roger's short leash to the harness, picked up her laptop and closed the door behind her.

Her experienced eyes scanned the area but saw nothing out of place. Roger jumped into the back seat and they were off. Instead of being happy and relaxed as he usually was in a vehicle, the big shepherd picked up on the anxiety of his owner and whined softly.

"It's okay, Rog," she softly assured him as she stroked the side of his neck. "Looks like we're goin' on a very unexpected vacation."

Tony smiled at her – one of his real smiles – and reassured her, "There's no way anybody will find you where you're going! I've been there and you'll enjoy it."

"Where am I goin'?"

"The mountains of Pennsylvania would be my guess."

Molly didn't say anything but knew it had a connection to Jethro's hometown of Stillwater, PA. Gibbs had told her about it one evening when they were telling family stories. The rest of NCIS wouldn't believe it if they were told that Gibbs actually talked to her at home. Actual, real conversations. With more than one syllable words or two-word sentences. He'd never be a magpie but he did talk.

Not spotting a tail, Tony turned into the Navy Yard and drove straight down to the evidence garage which was hidden from prying eyes.

A big dark blue full-sized SUV sat in the garage where Abby and Jimmy were packing all sorts of things into boxes: food, beverages, enough coffee to fill a freight car, canned goods, general household supplies and anything else they could think of that they might need to sustain themselves for the next few weeks. Spare fuel containers called 'jerry cans', painted in matching dark blue, were fastened to the big vehicle's right side in brackets made just for that purpose.

Ducky had come in, prepared and packed a large quantity of medical supplies. Just in case.

How had all this happened so quickly? Even Director Morrow, dressed in comfortable weekend jeans was on hand, speaking quietly with Gibbs. Tim came out to the garage with several sheets of paper in his hand which Gibbs glanced over and nodded. He then brought the papers to the SUV and put them in the front seat.

He walked over to Molly and enveloped her in a big hug. "Don't worry, Molly. We'll track them down. No matter what it takes, we'll get them. And we'll find Alvada."

"I know you will, Tim. If anybody can, it will be you," she told him as she returned his hug. "If I don't get back, Charlie is yours."

He blew that off. "Can't fly it until you finish teaching me!"

He showed her a pouch containing a dozen "burn" phones he was sending with them. This unknown group seemed to be well-funded and could easily have someone doing the same work he was doing when trying to trace and track her. At least these extra phones would help foil those efforts in that regard.

 

The last person to show up really surprised her. Fornell walked in at a fast clip. During her long recovery and months with NCIS, she and the senior FBI agent had become friends, sharing a friendly baseball rivalry between Molly's favorite team, the Atlanta Braves, and Fornell's Washington Nationals. Fornell had already purchased their tickets to the National's games in the coming season when the Braves would be in town to play them. It would be a blast and neither one could hardly wait for it!

He joined the 'summit meeting' of the entire team plus the Director, Ducky, Jimmy and Abby on one side of the big garage. He told Gibbs in a low, serious tone, "If you need or want anything, call me, ya hear? We'll back you up in whatever needs to be done. Nobody can go around threatening federal agents. You this time, maybe us next time."

Gibbs shook his friend's hand. "Appreciate it, Tobias."

Ducky pulled a floppy military-style "boonie" hat from his pocket and handed it to Gibbs. "A little something to disguise your appearance, Jethro."

Gibbs hesitated for a moment before the half-grin appeared. "Thanks, Duck." And true enough, with the hat covering his hair and shading most of his face, he wouldn't be easily recognizable.

Gibbs had a private word with DiNozzo, "The only reason I can take her to the cabin is you, DiNozzo. You've got this."

DiNozzo hoped the Boss' confidence in him wasn't misplaced. He had simply nodded, saying quietly, "I've got it, Boss. Be careful out there." Tony knew this was the best arrangement since Gibbs knew those mountains and surrounding areas intimately.

Everything was packed and Roger had been taken out for his last piddle stop. They pulled out of the garage, leaving a concerned group of friends and colleagues watching them

Checking his watch, Gibbs saw that they would be well after dark arriving at the secluded cabin way back in the mountains of his home state. That would be okay, too.

At least he had been able to give them a plate number of the black SUV, even if it did come back registered to a rental agency. No surprise. But all the data connected to the transaction was being checked even now, hoping for a quick break. John Balboa, otherwise known as Rocky thanks to DiNozzo, and an agency sketch artist were on their way to the rental agency to get a description of whoever rented it.

Once they were on the open road, Gibbs looked over at Molly. "Ya okay, Molly?" he asked quietly.

She took a deep breath and smiled even though it was a little forced. "Next time you take me on vacation, will you kindly give me more than five minutes to pack?" A short pause, then, "Love your hat."

He shot a glare at her but his trade-mark half-grin took any sting out of it then turned his attention to the road.

They kept a careful watch but neither spotted a tail. It was for sure that the only tracking bugs on this SUV were the ones – plural – Abby had placed herself sometime before. If one was found and removed, that still left several others which were tucked into places that would require partial dismanteling of the vehicle itself. Abby had gotten tracking bug happy at one point, even embedding one in Roger's collar.

 

Gibbs drove steadily and miles fell behind them. He glanced at Molly. She was pensively looking out the window, no doubt plotting mayhem against her stalkers. She was furious at this most recent threat but he'd leave the events of the day to be discussed later.

When they reached Stillwater, Gibbs slowed so little or no attention would be attracted. He didn't think anybody had even glanced in their direction as he had slowly and quietly eased down the mostly dark main street. And it was a fact that no one had followed them on the empty road.

Leaving Stillwater far behind, he drove into the mountains for quite a long distance before he turned off onto an unmarked track that led several more miles deeper into the thick woods. As they bounced and jolted over the rough track, Molly said nothing, just shot a look his way with a bit of a smirk of her own. Gibbs grinned.

At last they came to a dark cabin well-hidden in the surrounding mountain forest. Gibbs told her to stay put so he could chase out any critters that may have moved in since his last visit. From the outside, this cabin didn't look all that different from her own cottage, including a stone chimney. Well, maybe not so much the physical appearance as the solid, secure feel it seemed radiate.

With Roger looking over her shoulder, she watched as flickering candlelight came to life, softly shining through the windows, followed shortly by smoke that began to curl out of the chimney. Then the cabin seemed to come to life when he started a big generator that would power a water heater and refrigerator.

Gibbs came back to the SUV, opened her door and put large hands around her waist to lift her down from the high SUV.

"Gibbs, I can jump down," Molly protested.

As he lifted her to the ground, he said quietly, "It's dark. A sprained or broken ankle would not be helpful."

She accepted his logic but he seemed to find humor in the look she shot at him. 'I wonder how he thinks I managed for the thirty years before I met him?' she grumped to herself, though she would admit the feel of his big hands around her waist felt awfully good.

The two of them carried in a load, then Gibbs fired up the gas stove and put an old fashioned camp-style peculator on as Molly began putting things in the cabinets.

Later when everything was unloaded and they had had sandwiches for their supper, they took cups of coffee into the living area. Molly took a sip with a grimace. "How do you drink this stuff!" she muttered.

"Just pour it in a cup. Easy."

She snorted then went to heat water for a cup of tea.

Roger had busied himself thoroughly checking out all the strange smells in the cabin and apparently decided that it would do, and was now stretched out in front of the fireplace asleep. The cabin and woods reminded him of the place he and his human lived. He didn't know why they didn't live there anymore, but this was okay.

Just as they were settling down, something briefly scraped against the outside of the log cabin. Gibbs leaped to his feet, grabbing her loaded shotgun, ordering her, "Stay down!" and slowly eased out the door.

He silently slipped across the wide porch close the the wall and very carefully peeked around the corner, drawing a lightning fast bead on a majestic deer that was munching on something tasty close to the cabin. Checking himself quickly, he went back inside. "Almost had venison."

He returned to his seat on the floor by the fireplace and leaned back against a large chair. After a moment he got back up and left the room. She assumed he had gone to the bathroom but instead, when he returned, he said, "Bed's made up. You can turn in whenever you want."

All Molly had seen of the cabin so far was the large rectangular living area that included a modest but more than adequate kitchen, a sturdy rustic table for meals and steps leading upstairs.

"You have a bed?"

"Yeah." Gesturing toward the couch, he said, "But I'll sleep here."

Well, Molly knew for a fact that he preferred the couch at home but somehow she still felt she was taking his place, his room, but this wasn't the time to argue over it. It was really hard to win an argument with Gibbs anyway. He'd just stand there, arms crossed and stare at you with that irritating look. Roger would sleep wherever she did.

Molly had remained quiet throughout the evening, her face tight. At times she'd walk to the windows, pace around a bit, restless.

Gibbs quietly watched. He could see that the pressure was building up inside her and wondered when she was going to explode. She had never really gotten over the original attack and it was beginning again.

Finally she sighed and turned to him, "I'm goin' upstairs." She picked up one of the hurricane lamps to light her way.

He nodded, "'Night, Molly."

"'Night, Gibbs."

Molly got a hot shower, changed into a comfortable sleep shirt and went to bed.

It was quiet but the ambiance in the cabin felt uneasy, tense.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Carolina Connection Series: Book 1 part 1: BEGINNING  
> The Carolina Connection Series: Book 1 part 2: VENDETTA

Sometime during the night, Gibbs woke to a sound and it took a moment to realize that it was coming from upstairs. Quietly he climbed the stairs and paused at Molly's door as he heard the sound of muffled crying and indistinguishable words.

He slowly opened the door and saw that she was struggling with a nightmare. Easing over to the bed, he adjusted the flame of the lamp higher, leaned down and gently touched her wet face, speaking to her softly, "Molly? Wake up, it's just a dream. Wake up, Molly."

Her eyes flew open, startled and frightened as she gasped for air. "Shhh. It's all right, Molly. You're safe. It's just a dream."

She sat up, wiped her face and took a deep, deep breath. She glanced around the unfamiliar room then at the room's owner. "Sorry.....didn't mean to wake you."

"I know. Want a cup of tea?"

Molly hesitated then nodded. "I'll get it, Gibbs. You go back to sleep."

"Nah. Be right back."

As he left, Molly laid back on the pillows, recalling every moment of the nightmare that she had already lived and survived. Why was that unspeakable attack invading her dreams now? She'd been doing well, she thought, keeping everything under control. Capped off and buried deeply so it couldn't get loose.

Gibbs returned bearing tea for her, coffee for himself. Molly sat up against the pillows as he sat sideways on the side of the bed, one knee bent on the bed with his foot behind his other knee and one foot on the floor. "Thanks," she whispered.

They were quiet as they drank. Gibbs watched her eyes that seemed to be focused on something only she could see.

"Doing better now?"

Molly wondered, 'Am I?' She shook her head a little as she truthfully answered, "I honestly don't know, Gibbs. I – I dreamed what happened at home – and it was happenin' again. I – I can't – do that. I made it once but I can't do it again. Just can't. And I don't know what to do. Have I broken, Gibbs? Have they won?" Tears began to trail down her cheeks again.

Putting both cups on the bedside table, Gibbs reached for her, drawing her close to him with one arm, slowly running the fingers of the other hand through her hair as her forehead rested against the side of his neck. "Molly, I won't let them get to you! You'll never have to go through anything even close to that again." 

"And, no, you are not broken. You're strong, Molly! You've come through so much that it's probably natural to feel that way but you've beaten them at everything they've tried to do. And we'll beat them this time, too."

Molly drew back just enough to be able to look up at his face. "I – I know you'll do your best, Jethro, - and I'm so grateful to you for that. Somehow – I know inside that – that it's not over. Alvada won't rest until I'm dead. Unless I can find a way to get to him first."

Gibbs clutched her so tightly that it almost hurt, whispering fiercely, "No, Molly! No! I will not allow that! Understand me? I won't!"

Molly knew he'd try but the voice of that 'something' inside her was louder. She'd keep it to herself because she didn't want to distress him when he was already doing everything a human could do. 

A sad sigh softly escaped from her. She wanted to stay alive long enough to kill the man who so ruthlessly stalked her. She would not let him win!

Gibbs couldn't bear to let her go. He turned so he could ease her back down, then stretched out beside her beneath the warm covers, holding her, stroking her hair, murmuring his promises to her. He had noticed that somewhere along the way, he had become 'Jethro' to her and he liked that.

After a long night of tears, fears and anger, the sense of being held securely against his strong warm body was so reassuring that Molly eventually drifted into sleep.

When Gibbs woke the next morning, he was still holding her close. Even in sleep, her face was tight and distressed. He wanted nothing more than to be able to do something to erase that look and return restful peace to her.

Molly began to stir and her eyes slowly blinked open, at first shocked to find herself lying so close to Gibbs and seeing him studying her face before the memories of the previous night came flooding back. Molly softly apologized for waking him and shyly thanked him for staying with her. 

As they finished breakfast, she said quietly, "Jethro, I know we have to talk about yesterday. I know I was wrong to disobey your order but there was no way I could do anything except exactly what I did. If it happens again, I'll probably do the same – I think we both know that. I'll accept whatever punishment you decide is appropriate. I'm not exempt from the rules."

Gibbs sat silently watching her as she spoke. A totally honest, stand-up woman. He treasured that in her. Silence lengthened. He hadn't even had time to consider what action to take about what she'd done. That was way down on his list of priorities at the moment.

When he didn't answer, Molly stood and started taking the breakfast dishes to the kitchen to wash. Still dealing with his own emotions, Gibbs sat with his coffee at the table immersed in his own thoughts.

Kitchen clean, Molly pulled her thick mane of hair up into a high ponytail, picked up her jacket and stuck her weapon in the back of her belt, saying, "I'm gonna take Roger out for a while."

Gibbs stood, "I'll go with you. Don't want ya to get lost in these woods."

She snorted with the hint of a smile, "You think Roger can get lost here or anywhere else?"

One side of Gibbs' mouth turned upward as he pulled on a jacket and stuck his own Sig into his belt. They strolled through the forest to a lake that was maybe a half mile away where he said the fishing was great. 

It was a beautiful place of untouched lovliness. Heavily forested mountains surrounded the quiet lake that gently reflected the gold of the early morning sun. Molly suggested they get some fishing gear from the cabin and see if they could catch their supper, but Gibbs declined, promising to do it another time.

Roger had the time of his life, running here and there, sniffing, discovering all sorts of new things and reacquainting himself with the smell of animals that were familiar to him. He'd take a step or two into the water to drink but it was too cold to venture into for a swim. 

When they returned to the cabin, Gibbs dozed off to sleep on the couch. Getting bored, Molly poked around and found some fishing gear. Leaving a note on Gibbs' chest, she and Roger returned to the lake.

Most of the time, Roger sat beside her, absorbed in watching while she fished. He sniffed the fish then looked at her a little confused. These didn't smell like the ones he was accustomed to. Molly talked to him the way she used to – just as if he was another person - and it felt good for just the two of them to have some time together again.

When Gibbs woke, he found her note:  
Thought I'd try my luck at the lake.  
Fresh fish for supper?  
We'll be back shortly.  
~ Molly ~

He left the cabin to find go her but met them on the way back with a neat haul of six big beautiful fish in the creel. 

Gibbs cleaned the fish while she prepared homemade hushpuppies and slaw, then fried the fish to a light, crispy perfection. He had to admit, she had really put a great meal on the table. 

When the kitchen was clean again and they had coffee and tea by the fireplace, Gibbs told her gently, "Molly, I really wish you wouldn't go out by yourself. I need to be with you."

Those soft brown eyes looked at him in silence for a moment. "Jethro, I'm sorry you aren't happy about me goin' out with Roger, but do you know how many years I did everything alone before I met you? It's hard for me to get used to havin' somebody with me all the time. And there are so many things you should be free to do without havin' to babysit me all the time."

Gibbs didn't comment. He kept it to himself that he had spent a large part of his life alone, and with her, he was now enjoying having someone to talk with, to do things with even if it was just cleaning the kitchen. He wasn't coming home to a dark, empty house with nothing waiting for him but the skeleton of a boat he'd never sail and another bottle of bourbon. He didn't want to give that up. He didn't want to give her up.

Time passed as they waited for word that the culprits had been caught. It was hard to do mostly nothing but they had no other choice. Molly finally cajoled Gibbs into playing some of the board games she had found that Jackson Gibbs had brought here years before. 

At first he had resisted. "Get Roger to play with you."

"I would but he's a lousy player - and he cheats."

He finally gave in and to his surprise found that he was enjoying it. Neither gave quarter to the other and the games took on importance for bragging rights.

Seeing the difference between the Gibbs at work and the Gibbs here, Molly thought, 'Tony is not the only who wears masks!'

Gibbs' thoughts were, "If I have to be closed in somewhere, I'm glad it's with her." He enjoyed her sense of humor and upbeat attitude, even if she was abnormally subdued right now. 

He already knew that she was smart. Really smart. Sometimes it seemed that those brown eyes could see right through him. Once he had gotten used to that idea when he first brought her to his home, he found it was easy to be around her. There was no BS with her; she was a straight shooter all the way - and he especially liked that.

News from DiNozzo was disheartening in that the credit card used to rent the black SUV was in the name of an off-shore corporation and not traceable back to any one person – so far. Probably to be expected. Tim and Abby were buried in their computers digging into the dummy corporation trying to unearth the name of the person buried under those many layers of fronts. 

However, the sketch artist had rendered a terrific likeness of the man, according to those at the agency who had seen him. The man had been very brief in his transaction with the rental agent so there were no other leads but a BOLO had been issued for him in all the media and the sketch was everywhere you looked.

A call to Fornell wasn't much more encouraging. Leads were being checked out, people to interview. Nothing to do but just keep slogging through it. Everybody was doing the very best they could. This affected all federal agents regardless of agency affliation. 

Gibbs sat quietly thinking, absently rubbing Roger's soft fur. The more he thought about it the more he became convinced that this was simply a probe, a recon. All he and Molly could really do at this point was to dig in and stay put, leaving the work to others who knew their jobs and did it well. His job was here. And he was determined that no harm would come to his youngest agent.

 

The other side had their frustrations, as well. The woman seemed to have vanished; searching both physically and electronically had produced nothing so far. And they had been so close! Both of the mercenaries had been excited that they were the ones who had found her but who was the man in that truck? They had notified Tank that someone else was following her, too, then she vanished into thin air. Maybe the unknown man had caught her.

They left out the part where they quickly broke off the tail they had on her and raced away when they spotted a tail on them. Not the smartest move they'd ever made but they certainly hadn't expected to have been so tenaciously chased, either.

PacMan stretched and yawned then scrubbed his face with his hands. Like most all of Tank's troops, he was a big man, heavily muscled, on the quiet side (as most military vets are), above average intelligence. Nice face, dark hair, dark eyes.

Thumper, his partner, wondered if the woman had gone back to North Carolina where all this began. Possible. He'd mention it to Tank when they checked in a little later.

Thumper was very much like PacMan in build and condition, but with light brown, almost blond hair clipped close, and blue eyes.

This small rented apartment was all right but really wasn't furnished well in their opinions, to be honest. But it met their needs and there was no one around to notice their coming and going except perhaps the very old lady who rented the place to them.

PacMan turned to Thumper, "You hungry?"

"Yeah, I guess so. Lemme get a jacket; it's chilly out there."

Back at the apartment, Thumper settled in watch some TV, switched through several channels to see what was on and was shocked to suddenly see his picture on the evening news.

"Pac! Get in here!" When his partner ran in, Thumper exclaimed, "Look! Somebody is on to us!"

The two looked at each other, uncertain what to do. Not really. It wasn't that they didn't know what to do; they just didn't want to call Tank to update him on the situation. Each sighed, knowing that call was inevitable.

 

 

Tim and Abby worked intensely all day and both were bone tired; tired eyes, tired bodies, tired minds.

Tony walked into the lab. "You two are off-duty beginning right now. You will not report again until 0700 tomorrow morning."

Without even looking up, Tim answered absently, "Okay, Boss... Just a few minutes more.... We're so close..."

Tony walked over to see what they were doing. Abby was so absorbed in whatever she was doing on her computer, she didn't look up or acknowlege his presence.

Speaking to Abby, Tim, staring at his computer screen, said with a hopeful excitement in his voice, "See it, Abby? Right.....there! Is that it? I think it is!"

Not taking her green eyes off her monitor for even a second answered, "Ummmmm, yes! You might be right, Tim. If you are, we're in! Okay, you take lead on this part and I'll back you up from over here."

Tony had no idea what they were doing but he was pretty sure it wouldn't bear close scrutiny. But if it would expose who these people are, he'd not only back them up but would swear that they did it at his orders.

Technical jargon flew back and forth between the two, his only clue was the excitement or disappointment of their voices as they progressed. Then suddenly they both yelled at once, "YES!"

Excitedly, Tony asked, "You got the name?"

Pigtails still bouncing, Abby glanced up at him, saying, "Well, no. Not a name. Of a person, that is. But I guess you could - "

"ABBY!"

"Oh, sorry, I – I just get so excited, you know – and - "

Tim interrupted, "We managed to hack into the mainframe of the bank's computer system. From there, we'll find the owner's name, hopefully, but there are a lot of names to check. But at least we're much closer than we were."

Tony told them, "Good work! Now will you go home and sleep a little? Come back in the morning fresh and start on those names."

Abby and Tim glanced at each other then answered at the same time, "No."

Tony thought, 'Okay. What does Gibbs say in a situation like this? Hmph! He just orders us and we do what he wants – most of the time. This is like having a couple of teenagers to deal with.' 

After several minutes of negotiations, it was agreed that the two would sleep on Abby's futon until Tony came to wake them up.

Back in the bullpen, the SFA sat at his desk with a deep sigh. The overhead lights were off now, leaving only a few soft lights on. 'What else can I do? What have I overlooked?' He mentally ran through all that he was directing in Gibbs' absence. 'I could have used a trial run on a situation like this.' 

Then he realized that this was his trial run. Gibbs wanted him to learn for himself how to do this.

 

 

Fornell was a very, very senior agent and agents with that much seniority would rarely work late into the night or on weekends. But not Tobias C. Fornell.

He was a dogged man who still hung on to the work ethics he had had all his life. His people were used to him being right in there, slugging it out with the rest of them. 

Since he had finally seen Tony DiNozzo without his masks and worked with him a little, his opinion of the younger man had changed radically. The FBI man knew that DiNozzo was not only fully capable of running this case but would go above and beyond. 

He picked up his phone, "Hey, DiNozzo. What if this is just a recon trip and the main group comes later?"

It was quiet as Tony thought about that. "You may be right, Tobias." He sighed, asking quietly, "Toby, you think we can really do this? Successfully?"

Fornell didn't even grump about Tony's use of the hated nickname. "I don't know, DiNozzo, but I know we're going to bust our asses trying."

"Yeah. I really hope we'll have a breakthrough when Tim and Abby get back to work. I ordered them to get some sleep until I came to get them."

"Think they'll actually do it?"

"If I go down there and they aren't snoring, I'll bench both of 'em – right after this case."

Fornell chuckled, "Get some sleep yourself, Tony. Talk to ya later."

 

Tank cursed a blue streak when he was informed of the presence of an unknown person or persons who were on the woman's trail. How could she just vanish like that? Did the other party capture her? 

He thought about other possibilities including that she may have gone back to Wilmington. "Hey, Rabbit! You and Ghost pack up. Want ya to go back to Carolina and see if you can find the girl there." 

To himself he thought, "She's gotta be somewhere which means all we have to do is keep digging. Sooner or later, she'll surface."

He picked up his cell phone and punched in some numbers. "Tracker. How's it going?"

"Nothing yet, Tank, but we're working nonstop. Something has to turn up. I found the address she listed on the paperwork for the Jeep she bought, but it's the same one we know about. And she opened a bank account in DC, but so far, that's it. We'll stay at it and let you know the second we find something new."

Tank hung up. He was very concerned about Thumper's image being shown everywhere. Yeah, he was changing his appearance but still....... Tank had never failed to accomplish a mission and he didn't intend to start now.

He lit another cigarette and gazed out at the Texas countryside, thinking. He had to solve this problem quickly.

 

Abby and Tim were awakened by their boss, then stretching and yawning, they got to their feet and headed straight for their computers, drinking the coffee and Caf-Pow Tony had brought them. 

Tony and John Balboa put their heads together searching for other avenues that may produce a lead. Balboa had his team searching for possible groups to explore further.

Tony looked over the list they had come up with. There were more than a dozen of just the top candidates for their attention. He really didn't know there were this many free-lance pseudo-military groups that hired themselves out to the highest bidder. Mercenaries.

Oregon. California. Montana. Two in Texas. Louisiana. New York. Maine. Georgia. Mississippi. Vermont. New York. He handed the list back to his colleague with a sigh. "Where are you starting?"

"We've already gone over several but I'm more interested in one of the Texas outfits. There's word that one of them is rumored to work for somebody connected to a drug lord. That's the one I want to focus on now. Wish we had had this intel earlier."

"Yeah. It's progress, Rocky. Keep me in the loop."

"You got it. How are Gibbs and Mac doing?"

Tony grinned, "Slowly going stir-crazy, I think. MollyMac has him playing board games last I heard."

The look on Balboa's face was priceless. "I'd pay good money to just see that!"

Tony nodded and smiled as he moved away; Morrow wanted to see him.

Upstairs, the SFA was informed that the SecNav was bringing NSA and the CIA in on the case. The longer this cat and mouse game went on, the more concerned the various agencies became. It wasn't certain that NCIS was the only target of the threat.

Tony received the news with mixed feelings. Yes, the extra resources and manpower would be helpful, but he was afraid that the various agencies would just wind up fighting with each other over territory and be more of a hindrance than help.

His reservations showed on his tired face. Morrow smiled and said, "Don't worry, Tony, you're the lead on this case and everything goes through you. Thank SecNav for that."

The younger agent's face showed his immediate relief. "Thank you, sir. I've seen that group trying to work together before. It wasn't pretty."

"It has been made clear to them that their responsibility is to report to you. Any griping or refusals to accomplish what they are tasked with, will be brought to my immediate attention. Understood?"

"Yes, sir."

 

Much later when checking on Tim and Abby, he found them tense and excited. "We're almost there, Boss!" Tim exclaimed.

The two stared at their computer screens with wide eyes, almost holding their breath. They communicated in short spurts of geek-speak and keys were furiously tapped as they hacked deeper and deeper into the bank's mainframe, avoiding firewalls, security programs, traps and other electronic bugaboos that had to be outsmarted and neutralized without being detected.

Nearly another hour passed, then they screamed and jumped up and down, hugging each other. They had the name. James Robert Tidwell.

Tony could have cried for pure joy. He immediately called upstairs and notified Morrow. After a short break for something to drink and the sandwiches Tony had gotten for them, the duo began the research that would tell them who James Robert Tidwell is. 

Tony stood in fascination as the two attacked the computers, rapidly beginning searches in many different areas, turning up bits and pieces here and there, then they got a military hit.

James R. Tidwell, born in Oklahoma thirty-seven years ago. Former Marine, honorably discharged five years earlier. Several citations for bravery, a double-handful of ribbons for service, the latest being in Afghanistan. Last known address was just outside Camp Lejeune in Jacksonville, North Carolina. A call to Balboa put his team on this search, also. 

 

Besides Wheel of Fortune and Jeopardy, Miss Marybeth Caswell didn't watch television much anymore. She just didn't understand it nowadays. Things that were supposed to be funny were all too often just tacky and rude.

With her cup of tea on the table beside her, she turned on her TV while the evening news was still on because she didn't want to miss the beginning of her shows. That Pat Sajak is a very attractive young man!

Once she was sitting back in her comfortable chair, Sonny, her black-and-white cat, hopped up onto her lap to settle down for his regular evening nap. Taking a sip of the good tea, Miss Caswell suddenly stopped, staring at the screen with her mouth open.

"That's – that's one of the young men who rented the apartment, Sonny! Why is his picture on TV? They are such nice young men. They even helped me bring my groceries in."

The picture vanished from the screen when credits began to roll as one show ended and the next began with all the attendant commercials in between. 

She was so distracted, she couldn't even admire Mr. Sajak as she usually did or solve any of the puzzles. 'What should I do?' Maybe she should just go ask them about it. That would be the simplest thing to do. But what if they were criminals or something?

She eyed the baseball bat that stood beside her door. She'd be safe if they tried to break in here! She'd really let them have it!

Jeopardy came and went; all the answers escaped her. She turned off the TV and sipped on the now-cold tea. Sonny shifted slightly and returned to his nap with a sigh.

'Perhaps I should call the police. They will know if anything is wrong.' Picking up her the receiver of her old-fashioned black phone, she slowly dialed the local precinct and spoke with a very polite young man there. He took down all of her information and said they would check it out, then thanked her and hung up.

 

Desk Sergeant Nicholas Daly could hardly wait for his relief to show up. He'd been at this desk since eight this morning and was more than ready to go home – and Campion was late. Again. 

He sighed and took another phone call. This time it was a little old man who was sure that the wanted man lived in his attic and wanted them to come remove him. It was the twenty-ninth call he had had today with "valuable information."

Gabe Campion finally showed up, a cup of coffee in one hand and a bag of doughnuts in the other. Daly growled at him but Campion just grinned and shrugged as he always did. 

"Anything interesting today?"

"Nah, just the usual. Got a batch of calls about the mystery guy, mostly from our Greatest Generation. They're all here if you want to wade through them. See ya."

"Yeah, 'night, Sarge!"

Campion glanced at the stack of messages Daly had referred to, but decided that he'd check them later. Right now this cup of coffee and these fresh doughnuts had his attention; then the nightly push began. Everybody and his brother were out getting drunk, or fighting with somebody, domestic arguments, auto collisions, and everything else you could think of. Then the parade of pimps, streetwalkers and johns were brought in, loudly protesting about being 'harrassed' and being in handcuffs. Some things never change.

By the time his burning eyes told him it was near the end of his twelve-hour shift, he finally glanced at the stack of calls Daly had taken about the suspect at large. He dismissed several right out of hand, but stopped at one called in by a Miss Marybeth Caswell. That one might have potential. Glancing at the time, he thought it was a little early to call. He'd give it to Dave Kearney when he came in.

Kearney arrived as a bunch of druggies were hauled in to be processed. That took a while and when he returned to his desk, there were several blinking lights of waiting calls on the phone. Punching them top to bottom, he fielded calls and dispursed of them as he judged their importance. One of them caught his attention.

A Miss Caswell called asking if her message from last evening had been received by proper authorities. She felt it could be very important. Kearney asked a couple of questions and he perked up at the answers. He assured her that a car would be dispatched to her residence as soon as one became available.

As the day passed as it seemed that if anything could go wrong, it did. Bomb threats at one of the high schools.  
Lost kid. Possible kidnap victim. Big apartment fire. Wrecks everywhere. An officer injured during an arrest. Their resources were stretched thin. But finally his shift ended and Daly arrived to relieve him.

Joshing each other, Kearney told him all the things that had happened or were happening, completely forgetting about little Miss Caswell.

Daly settled in at the big desk and sighed as another long shift began.

 

Marybeth Caswell was losing her patience with the police. In spite of the promise from the nice young men she spoke to on the phone, but no one had shown up to speak with her yet and she was becoming quite put out with it all. She had seen the picture on TV several times and saw that viewers with information should contact the FBI.

'The FBI! Oh, my. It must be very important then!' A little hesitant to call such a respected and powerful entity, she hesitated as she gathered her courage. But she straightened her back (Mother would be upset if she was here and saw her "slouching") and picked up the phone. Dialing the number she had carefully copied from the TV, her heart was pumping a little faster. Mother had told her stories of Mr. Hoover and his very brave men as she was growing up. Who would ever have thought that she would one day be talking to one of the famous FBI agents!

 

Fornell was exhausted. He couldn't even remember the last time he had slept. Or ate. He wasn't even sure what day it was. He had taken a few minutes to go wash up and shave in the locker room and put on a fresh shirt before returning to the bullpen.

Phones were ringing with calls just like those the local precinct desk sergeants had been receiving. His agents were always polite, always answering yet another pointless call with concealed frustration. One agent had gone on a bathroom break, so Fornell reached over and picked up his ringing phone.

"FBI. Senior Agent Fornell."

"Oh, my. Mr. - uh – what should I call you? I'm afraid I'm not up-to-date on these things."

Fornell closed his eyes. Another little old lady. He sighed and put a smile in his voice.

"That's quite all right, ma'am. I'm Agent Fornell. May I have your name?"

The ordinary information given, Miss Caswell related her tale to the nice agent, concerned that no one at the police department had given it any attention. And she knew without a doubt that the young man in the picture was one of her new tenants.

Trying to keep his excitement out of his voice, he said, "Miss Caswell, I'll be there myself in about twenty minutes!"

After hanging up, Marybeth was a little flustered. "Do you think I look alright, Sonny? What about my hair? Well, it'll have to do. Now. Refreshments. I have those sugar cookies I just baked. They should be acceptable, don't you think?"

Sonny yawned, stretched and went to look for a place to take a nap.

By the time the doorbell rang, Miss Caswell had the cookies nicely arranged on one of her mother's good silver trays, a pot of steaming water was ready for tea, and her very best tea set was out. It had been given to her when she was a young girl and it was still a treasure to her now even though she was in her ninety-third year.

She opened the door and invited the two polite agents into her neat home, offering them seats in the front parlor. Her offer of refreshments was politely accepted as the older of the two agents softly asked questions which she readily answered. She gave her permission for other agents to come onto her property to investigate.

Yes, she would be in all day today as she had already done her shopping for the week and had no other engagements on her calendar. This Agent Fornell was certainly a charming man with the kindest blue eyes!

Tobias could barely keep his excitement hidden. He called for some very quiet backup. When they arrived, Fornell gave them his orders softly and the agents quickly and quietly moved into their assigned positions.

Then, heart pounding, Fornell and Sacks knocked on the front door of the apartment, announcing themselves. No answer, but no matter. They would be back and this place would be under non-stop surveillance until the two men returned.

Using the spare key given to them by Miss Caswell, Fornell unlocked the door and they rushed in, weapons drawn. The apartment was a bit small but quaint and nicely furnished with turn-of-the-century pieces Miss Caswell's mother had stored in the attic.

The agents found the place empty until the agent checking the bathroom called out, "Got something, Boss!"

There in the bathtub lay the fully dressed body of the man they had been seeking. Shot in the head.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Carolina Connection Series: Book 1 part 1: BEGINNINGS  
> The Carolina Connection Series: Book 1 part 2: VENDETTA

* * *

 

Tony could have gone on a certified Gibbs-worthy rant when Fornell phoned him about the suspect. Ducky and Jimmy were dispatched to retrieve the body and a team from NCIS would join one from the FBI to investigate the crime scene. Interagency cooperation at its best. So far.

Maybe some evidence from the apartment would give them additional leads. Tony wanted Balboa's team to continue what they were doing so he sent the team led by Carolyn Daughtry. She was quite capable and knew her way around a crime scene.

He sat at his desk, leaned back in his chair and closed his red, burning eyes for a few minutes. He may have appeared to be asleep, but his mind was running a top speed, thinking, planning and praying.

One of Balboa's agents located a James Tidwell in the small town of Belton, Texas, who owned a large parcel of land listed on the county tax records. The records gave his occupation as entrepreneur.

Balboa called across the bullpen, "Hey, Boss! Think we've got something here."

Tony sprang to his feet and was at Balboa's side in seconds. Looking at the information the agent had dug up, a tired but real smile spread across his face.

He clapped the agent who found it on the shoulder with a "Good job, Andy!" and gave Balboa a thumbs up. "Good team ya got here, Rocky!" Then he disappeared down the stairs, catching up with what Tim and Abby had found and showed them the info Balboa's agent had discovered. They instantly began another attack on their computers. From there he went to CyberCrimes to see if they had uncovered anything that would help.

Upstairs again, he briefed the Director on their progress. Morrow listened carefully, then asked how they had uncovered the name of the off-shore account holder.

Tony cleared his throat and said, "Sir, I – ah - I - - "

The Director smiled, "Our computer geniuses have been doing what they do best, huh?"

"Um, you could say that, sir. I'll take full responsibility if the question has to be answered."

Morrow looked the tired face of the leader of a four-agency operation. "When did you last sleep, Tony? You look like hell."

Tony smiled softly, saying, "Sir, I don't think I remember. I've caught a quick nap here and there. But I'm not doing a thing more than every agent downstairs isn't doing. When I leave here, I'm going to order some hot food for all of them. They need it."

Morrow nodded, impressed with his young agent. He was leading this large group of people quite well and was staying ahead of the game in his thinking. The Director wondered if he was even aware of the enormous scope of this operation and what a successful conclusion will mean to every federal agent. Probably not, because he was focusing on what had to be done for it to come to that conclusion and taking care of his people while doing it.

He smiled and said, "Good job, DiNozzo."

Tony smiled his thanks and as he was going out the door, he turned back and asked, "What is your preference, sir: pizza, chinese, Italian or what?"

The Director grinned, "Chinese sounds good."

Tony smiled and left. About an hour later, a extremely huge, we're talking  _ginormous,_  food order was delivered. The SFA distributed it to all the many teams working on this in different parts of the building, then to the director, and lastly, sat at his desk with food for himself.

After the much-appreciated break for hot food, work resumed immediately. Tony rotated around the various teams at NCIS while he coordinated actions with the other agencies by phone. He had been glad to have the information his people had found to pass to the other agencies; hopefully others could add to it.

* * *

An FBI expert sketch artist spent some time with Miss Caswell to create a likeness of the second tenant who seemed to have disappeared.

Miss Caswell was thrilled with all the chivalry and politeness with which she was treated. It was enough to make her quite breathless! Mother would have been most pleased with any one of these quiet, charming young men.

The agents, aware of her very advanced age, were pleased with her very sharp mind and learned quickly that when she said she knew something, they should listen. She filled in a lot of blanks simply by her observation of the pair who had rented the little apartment at the back of her property.

They never told her about the body they found. There are some things that sweet, gentille, little old ladies just shouldn't have to deal with. They distracted her with a polite visit to thank her for all her help while Dr. Mallard and his assistant arrived to remove Thumper from her property.

* * *

Fornell immediately forwarded the new sketch of the second mystery man to all agencies and media. He also took a minute to call the precinct station which Miss Caswell had called and blasted the desk sergeant for not following up on her call or at least forwarding it to the FBI. By the time he snapped the phone closed, he was reasonably sure it would  _never_  happen again. Gibbs was not the only one who could rip somebody a new one.

Then he called Tony to compare information again. With four different agencies working on the same case, the situation was becoming very fluid. One may find a crumb over here. Another might find a crumb over there. It was Tony's job to coordinate all of it to create a finished picture of the who, what, where, when and how.

As information came in faster and all the agencies dug farther, he had had to move to MTAC where he could stay instantly in touch with all, receive new information and direct their activities.

At times, Director Morrow sat quietly at the back of the MTAC room, just watching and listening. He was amazed at how much information his agent could process and remember almost with instant recall.

The pieces were coming together. Hopefully he could 'release the hounds' very soon now and his agency could get back to normal. Or whatever passed as normal around here.

He grinned as he realized that he wouldn't have it any other way. He was so happy to be back.

* * *

Gibbs frowned and threw his cards on the table. "Molly MacKenzie, you are a card shark!" The sparkles dancing in her beautiful brown eyes said that she knew it and revelled in it. Hmph!

"Deal 'em. I'm gonna mop the floor with you this time!" he declared ferociously, complete with a glare.

Molly just grinned back and handed him the deck to shuffle.

Total win-loss stats: Molly 9, Gibbs 0

Finally he sighed, sat back and growled, "Okay. Who taught you to play?"

"My grandparents. Most of the time there was little money so they provided their own entertainment, like playin' poker. They were about even in skills so each game was a  _cut-throat_  event played in earnest. I learned from the best!"

He had expected to be bored absolutely to death out here, but actually it was quite nice. Once he accepted that they'd be here awhile, he just relaxed and enjoyed the down time – which was rare for him. Molly was good company, never complaining or whining.

During the long evenings, she had gradually opened up to him somewhat about her life, her thoughts, her dreams, her experiences in life and the things that were the essence of who she was. He was surprised to find himself opening up to her, eventually even a little about Shannon and Kelly. He jerked himself up short, then realized what made her such a good interrogator. She'd ask quiet little questions that didn't seem important but before you knew it, you were telling her everything you knew.

When Gibbs was speaking, Molly found herself studying him, seeing the character in his handsome face; his experiences in life mapped out in the furrows on his forehead and the lines beneath and beside those expressive blue eyes.

And that soft silver hair. She wanted to touch it, to run her hands through it, but drew herself up sharply. ' _Get a grip, girl!'_ That initial attraction to him she had felt when they first met hadn't abated in the least, though she tried very hard to keep it hidden.

Gibbs was finding himself being drawn more and more to this remarkable woman. She was so well-grounded. Had a knowledgeable and steady head on her small shoulders. He constantly had to remind himself not to reach out and pull her close. The instinct to protect her was strong.

His fingers wanted to bury themselves in that soft, sweet-smelling hair. It was like a shining dark waterfall that shimmered in the sun. He wasn't sure where all this was coming from. She'd probably shoot him if he actually followed through with some of the impulses he seemed to have nowadays.

He kept reminding himself that she was an agent on his elite team and was a tremendous asset to it. Rule 12. It was there for a reason.

Gibbs knew they'd soon have to leave to resupply. He thought instead of going to Stillwater, he'd rather go to another town where he wouldn't be recognized or known. No questions to answer. That would probably be safer all the way around. He hoped. Anytime they had to leave this cabin, they exposed themselves to danger.

Then he changed his mind. Molly is the one being stalked and threatened by killers, not him. He should go by himself and leave her here, but a cold chill swept down his back at that thought. Could he even to do that? He  _had_  to keep her safe, no matter what. He wasn't going to lose another agent. He'd die first!

Gibbs finally made himself leave Molly in the cabin while he went for supplies. It would probably take most of the day and he wasn't happy about it. The frown on his face wouldn't leave until he was back and saw that she was okay.

Molly assured him she'd be fine. Nobody knew where she was – and if there was any trouble, she had plenty to fight with. She wasn't quite a helpless hothouse flower – not to have survived seven years fighting a drug war by herself.

Gibbs stuck a burn phone into his pocket and gave one to her. He wanted to stay in frequent touch but neither of them were to use any names or words, such as 'cabin' that could catch the attention of anyone running a computer search on phone use.

Just before dark, the big SUV trundled up to the cabin and Molly opened the door with a wide smile. "Welcome back! How did it go?"

"It went," Gibbs growled. "Let me get this stuff inside before it gets dark." Inside, he smelled coffee brewing and the frown disappeared, replaced by a pleased little smirk. She had thought of him.

Molly carried as much as she could then began putting everything away as it was brought in so the work went quickly. Seeing three additional large cans of coffee in one box brought a smile to her face. Those would be added to the five still unopened in the cabinet.

On his last trip in, he sat a nice AM-FM radio on the table, saying with an offhand tone, "Thought you might like to listen sometime."

"Oh, that's great, Jethro! Now at least we can keep up with what's goin' on in the world. Wow, this is a nice one!"

Then he sort of got a little bashful and she looked at him with her head slightly tipped to one side, puzzled.

He cleared his throat and said, "I – uh – got something for you." He brought out a variety of DVD movies and CDs he hoped she'd like, along with a truckload of batteries for her laptop and the radio.

Molly laughed happily, looking at her gift with delight. "Oh, Jethro! How terrific! Thank you! This is great! Now we'll have somethin' to do besides playin' poker. I get tired of winnin' all the time!" - giggling at the last as he shot her a glare.

He was glad she was happy with his gifts but things like that made him somewhat ill-at ease, embarrassed even.

"You hungry?" he asked, wanting to move along to another topic.

"Yep. I made a good beef stew, mashed potatoes, green beans and biscuits. Hope ya like it!"

Molly warmed the food as Gibbs set the table and soon they were enjoying a really good meal. Gibbs found himself reaching for biscuit after biscuit. He hadn't had any like these since his mother died.  
  
Molly let Roger out one last time, shivering on the porch as she waited for him. By the time they got back in, she felt frozen and went straight to the fireplace, rubbing her arms. "It's really turned  _cold_  out there!"

"Snow's in the forecast. Not unusual this early in spring."

"Do you miss your home here?"

"Nah. Been gone too long."

Gibbs asked, "Wanna watch a movie?"

"Sure! Pick one out. I'll get the laptop."

Sitting together on the floor in front of the fireplace leaning back against furniture, Roger stretched out sleeping beside them, they watched a military movie they enjoyed on the laptop's screen. Neither were movie-going, keep-up-with-Hollywood types, but the storyline was good and the acting okay.

Molly found it a little difficult to keep her mind on the movie because Gibbs was sitting close beside her, hip-to-hip, to see the screen of the laptop, half of which sat on his right thigh, while the other half sat on her left one.

The arm closest to her was stretched out on the sofa seat behind them. His fingers were touching the top of her shoulder and the warmth of his strong body touching hers disturbingly raised her own temperature. She spent most of the time resisting the strong temptation to just melt against him and pretend she was just watching the movie.

Gibbs decided that it was necessary to sit as close as possible to her in order to see the screen properly. He'd never admit to anyone that he felt as if he could never get close enough to her as he wanted to. Her small body was perfect, well-toned and strong but soft with skin that he sometimes imagined very gently caressing with his big hands. Those thoughts caused him to swallow hard.

At times, when they played cards on the floor in front of the fireplace, Molly would stretch out on her stomach, knees bent, ankles comfortably crossed above her. She always dressed modestly, but some of her shirts and tops offered a momentary tantalizing glimpse of cleavage which gave the impression that there really was  _much_  more than met the eye.

Too soon for both of them, the movie ended and there was no longer an excuse to sit so closely together.

"Ready for bed?" Gibbs asked as he sat up straighter and closed the laptop.

"Yeah, I think so. You gonna to stay down here?"

"Think that would be a good idea. I can hear better from down here. Glad ya thought to bring your shotgun."

"Well, every Southern girl worth her salt knows the importance of a really good shotgun and how to use it. Wouldn't think of leavin' home without it," she commented with a laugh in her voice. She was making light of it, but was well aware of the life-or-death seriousness of the situation.

They stood for a moment just looking at each other until Molly realized what they were doing and blinked as she moved away a bit from the powerful presence of the man with the silver hair. "Have a good night," she managed softly as she turned toward the stairs.

A moment later, a soft "Good night, Molly" followed her upstairs.

* * *

Ducky and Jimmy had completed their examination and autopsy of mystery man #1 and several pieces of information had been sent to the lab.

As Abby's computers and machines flashed through the information put in them, details were coming forth. They didn't seem to find anything about mystery man #2, but now mystery man #1 was no longer a mystery.

Robert Littleton Jackson, age thirty-five, former Green Beret, honorable discharge from the military two years earlier, born in Arizona, no family, last known address in Fayetteville, North Carolina, just outside sprawling Ft. Bragg.

Now to begin scrounging for information on Mr. Jackson.

Time was passing, and they still hadn't located solved the problem. Tony was truly frustrated. Now he understood why Gibbs sometimes "lost it" in the bullpen. He wanted to scream _'Somebody find me a lead!'_  But he kept himself in check.

Director Morrow looked at his agent and said, "Special Agent DiNozzo, I order you to go  _home_  and stay there until you have at least eight hours sleep."

Tired blue-green eyes looked out of Tony's face which held a small smile, "I'd love to, Director, but I can't. We're getting closer and so far I've been able to keep a semblance of peace between all the agencies. CIA is checking more into that outfit in Belton, Texas and the FBI is contacting the COs of this guy. Maybe something will turn up there. I think that is our best choice right now. If we can stop the mercenaries attempting the assassination, we stop the danger. That's not to say that Alvada won't sent out another one, but at least this one will be out of business."

He added softly, "I'll be in MTAC."

* * *

PacMan was no fool. If he had been ordered to off Thumper because of his picture, then no doubt the same fate awaited him since his picture was now being shown all over the world. He had grown a neatly trimmed beard and mustache, let his hair grow out and had bought a pair of grocery store glasses.

He wasn't sure where to go. His thought was that he'd like to make it back to the ranch before Tank sent someone after him. First, he had to make it to one of his stashes where he had money, fake documents, etc to cover his tracks. The closest one was a good two hundred miles from here. Looking at the needle on the fuel gauge, he wasn't sure he had enough cash on him to buy enough to get there. He still had the credit card used to rent the car, but felt sure the feds had a watch on it now. Didn't want to lead them to him, either. This was going to be tricky.

The cell phone in his pocket chirped and he looked at caller ID. Yep, Tank. Should he answer? After a long moment he did.

"How's it going, Tank?"

"Dunno. How 'bout you tell me."

"The problem was handled; I'm leaving town. I have most of the info you wanted, photos, etc. and I'm bringing it in now."

Tank mumbled that non-committal "Mmmmph" thing he did when he didn't want to answer either way. "When will you be here?"

"Probably take a couple of days at least. I've altered my appearance so nobody should associate me with any sketch they might come up with."

Tank just grunted, "Okay," and broke the connection. Hmm. His gaze returned to the Texas countryside. Need to think a little more. He contacted Pops who was enroute to DC.

The older man answered, "Yeah."

Tank had to grin. It was hard to get much more than one syllable words out of the older man. "Where are ya, Pops?"

"Tennessee."

"Okay. PacMan is in the wind. Guess he was scared after he had to off Thumper. You up to doing some recon on your own?"

"Yeah."

"Get back in touch when you're there."

"Copy." Pops broke the connection.

Tank couldn't quite make up his mind. He had been surprised that anyone had remembered his man at the car rental place. How did the law even guess to check there? Someone had to have made them and gotten the license number. That's the only way. How much more had they uncovered? Should he put this mission on hold for a while? His client wasn't happy that it had taken this long. No, he had to continue if at all possible.

As soon as Pops got even a little info, they were going to move. He began revising their operation plan, making it looser and more adaptable. Each man in the compound studied it, some making suggestions.

This would be over as soon as possible. He'd be glad to turn this woman over to Alvada's people who were taking her to Saudi Arabia, then to parts unknown. He didn't care what they did with her. He'd have his money and his part would be done.

* * *

Two days later, a light cream-colored Chevy was parked just up the street from the Gibbs house, quietly observing. So far, no one had either come or gone. This was the last known place she had been seen.

Pops had done a bit of research on his laptop and easily found the name of the person who owned this house. His place of employment was shown as NCIS, Washington, DC. Another easy search revealed that the headquarters of that agency was in the Naval Yard. Consulting a map, Pops would check it out. See if he could get a line on this Gibbs. It would be helpful if he knew what he looked like.

Back in the room he was renting in a mid-level hotel just outside Washington itself, he cleaned himself up, put on some of his better but still informal slacks, a nice coordinating shirt, polished his shoes and left.

Following the map, he arrived at the large headquarters building, a little surprised to see how many buildings there were on this property. He stopped at the gate sentry greeting him with a friendly smile, "Good afternoon. I have an appointment with Agent Gibbs, NCIS."

Not batting an eye, the young marine sentry, pointed to a small parking area off to the side, "Yes, sir. If you'll just park over there for a moment, I'll be right with you." The sentries and all security personnel knew to keep an eye out for unusual events, especially those who asked about specific NCIS personnel, which included a short list of names.

Holding his expression, Pops answered, "Sure!"

In the rear view mirror, he watched the marine pick up a phone and speak to someone, then picked up a pair of binoculars directed towards the Chevy.

Pops muttered an expletive as he thought, 'He's reading the tag number. Okay. What's the quickest way out of here.' The only thing he could see was to backup and just crash through the gates and hightail it out of there. He'd ditch this car and get another one.

As the car smashed through the barrier, he heard the flat pops of gunfire and hoped a tire or some other vital part of the car hadn't been hit. He was almost back on the main highway again when two different vehicles cut him off and forced him off the road. He was stuck.

Men in civilian dress, wearing badges on their belts had weapons pointed at him, yelling, "NCIS! GET OUT OF THE CAR - HANDS IN THE AIR!"

'Well, shit. Ain't this a purty piece of crap!' Well, he hadn't planned on it ending this way but there's an end to every story.

He bit down on a certain place in a back molar and immediately felt the effect of the drug. Within seconds, he was dead.

* * *

It took all of Tony's restraint to contain himself when he saw the man slump at the wheel and knew what he'd done. Couldn't they get a break in this case?

Ducky and Jimmy examined the body, then took it back to Autopsy. The Chevy was towed to the evidence garage and Abby began her investigation. There were various papers – maps, directions, notes – bagged and tagged. A cell phone which hopefully would give them good intel, lots of fingerprints, a license tag number to trace and on and on.

To the tired investigators, the prospect of new intel was revitalizing. They were ready to jump all over it as soon as Abby did her work in the lab. She left the car itself and returned to the lab to see what hidden info these physical items might give.

The man's wallet contained a driver's license, a voting card? a  _library_ card? and several credit cards. Tim would start on these while she returned to the garage to go over the car itself.

A military hit popped up right away verifying the info on the driver's license. Jasper Dean Conaway, age 56, former special forces, served with distinction in both Iraq and Afghanistan, honorably discharged, last known address Fayetteville, North Carolina outside Ft. Bragg. Again, the proximity to a military base and special forces were becoming a common factor with all of these men.

Both the library card and the voting card were for places in the same county as Belton, Texas.

In MTAC, Tony delivered the latest information to the other three agencies. They knew who, now they knew where. All they needed now was the when and how. Maybe they could wrap it up before it even got that far.

Tony ordered each agency to report in in one hour.

He sat in one of the chairs in the small audience section and leaned back with a sigh. He asked one of the techs to wake him before the next meeting. In seconds he was sound asleep. And it seemed like only seconds when Joshua, one of the techs, gently shook his shoulder. "Five minutes, Agent DiNozzo."

Rousing himself as best he could, he got shakily to his feet and ran a hand through his hair. The techs glanced at each other, not sure if the agent could stand or not. A discrete call to the Director's secretary suggested that the Director may want to stop by MTAC.

Tony listened as each agency made its report. Even Tim and Balboa had come at Tony's call to the bullpen so they could report on their own activities and the earlier events relating to Jasper Conaway.

As the meeting was drawing to a close, Fornell said, "Good God, Tony! Some of Ducky's guests look better than you do! Go get some sleep, will ya?"

Tony chuckled briefly, "I love you, too, Fornell!" Then he made the slash motion across his throat to the techs.

"He's right, you know." He turned around to face the Director and the two agents.

"Yeah. In a while. We've got to see what more we can find on the outfit in Texas and try to find out if there are others here that we don't know about."

Tim said, "Tony, there are plenty of us to do that while you go catch a nap. You can probably use Ducky's couch. If anything comes up, we know where you are."

Tony noticed that Tim and Balboa weren't really looking their best, either. But, at his insistence, they had gotten a little sleep here and there. The buzzing in his ears began to roar and the room seemed waver around him.

"Thanks, but I'm fine. We're close to the - end - of - this. I - - can – - fee..."

The next thing he knew, he was being awakened in Ducky's office on the well-worn, comfortable couch. What the - ?

"Come on, dear boy. Time to awaken, I'm afraid. Let's get you on your feet, shall we? A wonderful cup of my finest tea awaits you. And after that you can go have a nice shower, shave and get into some nice fresh clothing. How does that sound?"

Tony looked the august Medical Examiner in complete confusion.

Ducky explained that he had simply collapsed in MTAC so the combination of the Director, Tim and Balboa had carried him here. The MTAC techs had the next meeting scheduled for one hour from now.

Tony was mortified that he had shown such weakness right in front of the Director and others.

Giving warm thanks to Ducky for his care and hospitality, Tony hurried upstairs for the last of his clean clothing, then quickly showered, shaved and dressed. Wow. He felt like a whole new person.

Putting his things away, he went to Balboa and said, "Sitrep, Rocky."

Balboa smiled. "You look a lot better, Tony. Even if I lost the office pool, I'm still glad you got some sleep! Okay, we have all the info available on the bodies we have to date, plus a good lead on the one still at large. The team was able to get some prints from the apartment. It's coming together, Boss! You've run one helluva operation here, Tony. When I was first told about it, I said, 'No way!' NCIS, CIA, NSA and the FBI have _never_  cooperated with each other before. Good job, man!" Rocky held his hand up for a high-five.

"Thanks, Rocky. And – thanks for helping - "

"Don't give it a thought. You'd do the same thing and you know it!" the Team Two senior agent said with a grin and a wink.

Abby and Tim were still at it on their computers while Abby's machines chirred, whirred, gurgled and blinked as they did whatever they were supposed to be doing.

Turning with a smile, Tim greeted him, "Heeey, Tony. Feel better?" He held out a hand to his current team leader.

Taking Tim's hand, he looked him in the eye, "Thanks, Tim. I was a little more tired than I thought."

With one of his gentle smiles, Tim said, "As Gibbs would say, 'ya think'? I glad you're better. There was a pool going on about how long you'd last before you collapsed."

Tony grinned. "How much did you lose?"

"I didn't lose! Thanks, Boss! I'll take you to dinner."

Tony laughed – and it felt good. It had been a while now. "So what do the two of you have."

Tim explained his own findings and related that Abby had traced some of the dirt on the car that matched known soil samples from the same area as Belton, Texas.

"Terrific! Good work, both of you! The two of you want to join me in MTAC for this meeting? You can explain it better than I can."

"Sure, Boss. Just let me comb my hair. This is my last clean shirt so there's nothing I can do about it."

"I'm down to my last one, too, or I'd loan you one."

Abby gave him one of her crushing bear hugs, "I've really been worried about you, Tony. Glad you're feeling better."

They arrived in MTAC several minutes before the meeting was to begin. Tony punched a number into his phone. "I need you in MTAC now. Thanks."

Less than a minute later, a rumpled Balboa entered the room. Tony told him, "I want you to give your sitrep on what you and your people have been doing."

A rather surprised agent just nodded. "Sure, Boss."

The meeting went well with each agency giving a report of their activity and findings. As his group reported, Tony thought about the next steps to be taken.

All reports in, he said, "I think it's time we pay Belton, Texas a visit. CIA, I know you've had a couple of people out there. Anything specific from them?"

"No, Agent DiNozzo. The subjects we're interested in stay strictly to themselves in their own compound on a good-sized farm, or ranch, a fair distance out of town. They weren't even able to find out where they got their groceries. There are whispers about them, but are unsubstantiated and seem to mostly be small town gossip. The only concrete thing they've been able to find is that a black jet seems to fly in and out of there fairly frequently but were too far away to get any better description or aircraft number."

Tony nodded, knowing exactly who he'd ask the next step on that topic. "NSA, any of this on your radar?"

The NSA official seemed a bit embarrassed. "No, sir. But you can believe that a section will be devoted to that very topic immediately."

"Okay. We can't always think of everything. CIA and NSA, I think most of your people can stand down on this for now. Many thanks for all your help. Good work! FBI, I'd like another word, please."

"Here or by cell?"

"Cell. Thanks, Tobias."

As the screen went black, Tony turned to the Director. "Uh, sir. I – I want to apo- - -"

He was cut off. "No, you don't, young man! Although if you'd held on for another twenty minutes, I'd have won the pool, but be that as it may, I'm glad you got some rest, Tony. Feel better?"

"Yes, sir. And thank you, sir."

On his way out, Morrow gave a small wave of his hand as he smiled.

A little later, Tim went out to make a coffee run for everyone and Tony enjoyed a really hot cup of his favorite brew and sat back with a contented smile. "Thanks, Tim! This really hits the spot."

The two agents sat and talked together for the first time since this entire nightmare descended on them. It felt good for just the two of them to sit and hammer out ideas, discuss possibilities, and review where they were in the case to date.

Tim agreed, "I think you're right that it's time to go to Texas now. Gibbs still has Molly secure – by the way, he said don't ever try to play Poker with her; you'll get trashed – and for the time being, some of these people can stand down and catch up on their own lives and sleep."

Tony nodded. "Agreed. I think this so far was a recon before the main group launches their operation. They'll carry it out as a military-type op. Which reminds me, I need to talk to Molly for a minute. I'm sure she'll know how to get more information on that jet."

He punched in the numbers for today's burn phone and in a moment, her soft Southern voice answered a little cautiously, "Hello?"

"Hey, MollyMac! How you doing out there?"

"Tony! It's nice to hear you! We're doin' well, I think. Findin' ways to fill up a long day and keep boredom at bay."

"Hmmm. Like what, exactly? Anything you want to tell Uncle Tony?" he teased her.

She laughed, "You are incorrigible, Tony! Anything new on your end?"

"Yeah, if the boss is there, put this on speaker."

Gibbs' voice came over loud and clear, "What's up, Tony?"

"Making a lot of good progress, Boss." He filled him in with what each agency had been doing what. "Just a little more and it will be time to go to Texas. We've pinpointed the compound. It'll be tough to approach, but not impossible. Molly, I need some info from you. If you needed a registration number of a specific aircraft and the owner's name, how would you go about it?"

"I'd contact the FAA in Oklahoma City and ask if they have a database with that info. Failing that, see if they can single out a specific plane possibly registered with that address or town. They're good with records, so I'm sure they can help you. Another thing you can do is issue a BOLO on the jet itself. Have it sent to TSA and every FBO* in the country. FAA control towers would be excellent, too. A black jet is out of the ordinary. People would notice it." (*Fixed Base Operator – like Mike)

"Terrific, MollyMac! Thanks. That's exactly what I needed."

Gibbs broke in. "Be sure to keep me updated, Tony, Especially before you and Fornell head west to storm the Alamo. You know how that worked out."

Tony laughed. "I hear you, Boss. How did you know it would be the FBI and us that went?"

"The CIA's expertise is in gathering intel by whatever means necessary. NSA does its own thing listening to everything and everybody. That leaves NCIS and the FBI – as it should be. Who's leading, you or Fornell?"

"SecNav appointed me to handle this whole operation."

"Well, it's your baby so you take care of it. Anything else?"

"No, Boss. You playing Poker tonight?"

The connection was abruptly broken and Tony laughed.

* * *

~ Continued ~

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Carolina Connection Series: Book 1 part 1: BEGINNINGS  
> The Carolina Connection Series: Book 1 part 2: VENDETTA

* * *

 

Sitting at his desk a few minutes more, Tony looked around at the teams who were still working. He went over to Carolyn's team and asked how it was going.

"Okay, Boss. Just not productive. Everything we're finding now is simply repetitive info we already have."

He nodded. "Okay, Carolyn." Looking around at her team members, he said,"Good work, everybody. Time for you to go home – if you still remember the way – get some decent food and a good's night sleep. Don't report in until nine tomorrow morning. Thanks for all your hard work!"

The smiling team slowly shut down computers and began gathering things that had gotten scattered during these long days and nights. Carolyn glanced at the tall Senior Field Agent and smiled. Those comments were greatly appreciated. Really nice of him to tell them. Made her feel good, too.

Stopping at Balboa's team, he clapped the team leader on the shoulder.

"How's it going, Rocky? Making headway or just plowing the same field over and over and over."

Balboa sighed, saying, "Now and then we'll uncover something that isn't really important as it pertains to this case, but I can tell you, Boss, I have the hind-end of that ol' mule forever imprinted on my mind."

Everybody chuckled. "Okay, guys. Time to go home. Eat something good, not junk. Get a whole night's sleep and I hope your dogs won't bite mistaking you for an intruder. Report back at nine in the morning. Terrific job, guys! I really appreciate it. You uncovered some good stuff! Rocky, if you have a minute, come on over to our 'pen."

"Yes, sir. Got a few things to clean up here Be right there."

As the room emptied for the first time in weeks, the three agents comfortably sat back with fresh cups of good coffee and just talked. An informal discussion about how they might have done something differently or other things that might be considered. All in all, each felt good about how things had gone since the onset of the operation and the fact that Tony had kept all the agencies involved focused on their work and forbidding any interagency rivalry. All communication was to DiNozzo only and his addressing them only by agency name kept all personalities out of it.

* * *

Tank was getting worried. Pops hadn't checked in and the old man was prompt on that sort of thing. He picked up his phone and pushed the buttons. The other phone didn't even ring.

What had happened? Had someone gotten their hands on him already? If they had, he knew Pops was dead. He'd never let himself be captured alive. This mission is nowhere as easy as he had expected. Three men already lost, his first ever in this business.

He sat down in his favorite chair, puffing on the ever-present cigarette, as he thought. Maybe he'd better back off on this for a while. He had to make up his mind if the remainder of the mission was go or no-go.

It would be humiliating to completely fail. He had never failed in any mission, either in service or here with his own group.

He sensed that everybody was getting antsy over the repeated holds. They were ready and anxious to go do what they did best. Even the two pilots were getting twitchy and that had never happened before, either.

The big man picked up his phone again.

"Tracker, got anything new?"

"Possibly, Tank. Need just a little bit more time to verify a couple of things and we might be getting a break on where the subject is being held. I'll call you back soon."

Tank's interest was piqued and hoped Tracker would call quickly.

* * *

Gibbs' gut was twitching again but why? His instinct was to get packed and move quickly but he didn't know why. Had someone connected this place to him? No one outside of the county clerk's office knew of this cabin and it should be buried beneath several tons of other records, paperwork, etc. Someone searching online records? This county didn't have that, did they? He decided to call and find out.

The hated answer: yes, they were proudly online now, just like all the big places. The hair on the back of his neck stood straight up.

OK, they had to move – but where to? Then he remembered a place a distant cousin had that was secluded and there was no way it could be traced to him.

Making that phone call, he received rather reluctant permission to use the place. He called Tony, "We gotta move,  _now._  I think somebody has traced this place to me. Damn online records, anyway! I'll call you with details later. Gotta go!"

Molly overheard this conversation and came to Gibbs with fear in her eyes, asking quietly, "Are they comin', Jethro?"

"Not sure, Molly, but I'd rather be safe than sorry. Let's get loaded up and head out before the snow moves in."

Hardly an hour later, the big blue SUV was loaded and on the road again. Molly hadn't even asked where they were going. She knew Gibbs wouldn't go anywhere unless he had high confidence in the safety of it.

As if he read her mind, he said softly, "We'll be alright, Molly. Got a relative who has a place we can use."

"Where?"

With a crooked half-smile and a chuckle, he answered, "Maine."

_"Maine?"_

"Ever been there?"

"No!"

"Neither have I."

"Then how - "

"My father told me about it. Got a couple of rich relatives who regard us as the 'poor' side of the family. They don't have much to do with us."

"Then why did they agree to let us use it?"

"Called a cousin. Few years back he got himself involved in some stuff and I got him out of the mess he'd made. He doesn't want the rest of his family to know about it and he owes me."

Molly smiled as she studied the man behind the wheel. "You're a fascinatin' man, Jethro."

He chuckled, "Nah. Just calling in a marker." He brushed it off but inside he was pleased with her compliment.

Several hours later, they stopped at a diner and Gibbs got some things to-go. Again Molly had stayed in the vehicle so no one would see her, though she did give Roger a short walk in the dark shadows. He was superb about traveling but even he needed a break now and then.

After they ate, Molly asked, "You want me to drive a while? Don't want you to get too tired. Not safe."

"Next stop. Need gas soon."

Molly sat quietly as the darkening countryside steadily flowed past the windows. She never imagined herself in a situation like this: on the run from killers who wanted her dead, treking across the country to places she'd never seen before, with probably the last person on earth she'd ever expect to be baby-sitting her through all of it. What an unlikely adventure!

Gibbs raised an eyebrow at her and asked, "What's funny?"

"I think I'll write a book."

A quiet chuckle was his only response.

The farther north they went, the more snow was on the ground which Roger loved to romp in for a few minutes on their brief stops. Molly drove for a while so Gibbs could rest. Some hours later when he woke, they stopped to get the thermoses filled with coffee and he took the wheel again. They switched back and forth for the whole long journey.

By late the next afternoon, they had navigated through snow and cold wind to finally reach the small community of Piscataquis, Maine. Gibbs stopped and topped off the fuel tank, bought bread, milk, butter, eggs, and some meats, then they made their way higher into the uninhabited mountains, carefully following the directions given to Gibbs by his cousin for the back roads to a remote area where they finally found the 'cabin.'

"Jiminy  _Christmas_ , Jethro! Look at this place! Most people would love to have this for their regular home!"

Carefully looking the place over, he just nodded. It was a huge two story log structure with a wide covered porch across the front, probably around four thousand square feet living space or more. It was stunning! True to his relative's word, a bundled-up caretaker stood on the porch with keys to the house in hand and the remote for the garage door.

Thanking the man, he drove up and into the open two-car garage, shut down the engine and pushed the remote that closed the garage door behind them. For a moment, they just sat, listening to the cooling ticks of the engine. The long journey was over and hopefully this would be the last move they'd have to make.

Gibbs' cell rang. "Yeah – Gibbs."

"Boss, what are you doing in  _Maine_  of all places?" Tony asked with concern.

"Never been here before. Got a lot of snow," he deadpanned.

"Abby's been tracking you ever since you left the other place. Everything okay?"

"Yeah, we're good. Any news?"

"Fornell and I have pretty well figured out how we want to handle this, but we're both thinking that we need a specialized team for the entry and take-down. By all the intel we have, we can expect an unknown number of former special forces types. That means some pretty high-powered weapons, not only possible, but probable. Tobias is setting that up."

"Anybody helping set this up beside you and Fornell?"

"No. Everybody else has done just about all they can do. I still have a couple of calls out that should be answered shortly. Tell MollyMac her suggestions have helped enormously. There have been a number of hits on the BOLO by various airport personnel everywhere. We need to follow up on that later. No telling what we'll find. Bills have always been paid through credit cards issued from Tidwell's off-shore account. The pilots of the jet are the only ones who are seen close enough to identify, though each person reporting states that a group of anywhere to two to about twenty, twenty-four get off and on. In a few hours I should have a response back from the FAA in Oklahoma with the name of the owner."

"Good work, Tony. Everybody okay?"

"Yeah, we've each taken a little time to actually go home and sleep some. We're good for the duration now. I gotta tell you, Boss, our team, Balboa's and Daughtry's have done some outstanding work on this. It was one Rocky's guys who found the Texas info. I can't praise them enough!"

"Good deal, Tony. We're gonna crash for a while. Eighteen straight hours of driving ain't easy."

"Okay, Boss. Keep in touch and I'll let you know what's happening here. Give MollyMac a hug from us! Bye."

Gibbs and Molly entered this luxurious "cabin" amazed at the careful attention to detail and high quality. A massive power plant supplied power to this place just like a home in town and a furnace was quietly humming, keeping the entire house warm. The caretaker would see to its care while they were in residence. Fires were already crackling in two fireplaces on the lower floor. Upstairs they found three sizable bedrooms with private baths, as well as a bunkroom with its own bath.

Downstairs, they checked out the kitchen which would have been at home in any luxurious estate. Everything looked brand new as if it had never been used. "It may not have been. That bunch isn't fond of country living."

"Then why build a place like this?"

Gibbs shrugged. "Because they can?"

Later after eating and cleaning up, they sat in front of the fire just watching the flames. Roger had conducted his own thorough investigation of the place and apparently decided that this too was acceptable. Now he was stretched out on his side, snoring. He was tired by the long, long ride, too.

Gibbs looked around. "Nice place."

Molly answered, "Yeah, but I like yours better. I'd rather be there."

A full smile spread across Gibbs' face. Molly was about as low maintenance as anybody could be.

* * *

Tony stood beside Fornell off to the side as they watched the two special services teams discuss the entry and what they could expect. Counting, Tony saw only eight men.

"Tobias, is that all of them?"

"Yeah." Fornell's tone of voice said he was a little uneasy as well. Neither agent wanted to go in undermanned.

After another moment or two, Tony asked softly, "Tobias, how do you feel about Seals?"

The FBI man looked at him a second then answered with a small conspiratorial smile, "I like Seals. I like Seals very much. I go see them at the zoo all the time."

Tony grinned and said, "I'll be right back."

Privately, he called Director Morrow who called SecNav who called the Chief of the Naval Operations who called the Force Master Chief of Naval Special Warfare Command in California who called Naval Special Warfare Group 2 in Little Creek, VA who called down the chain of command line there to Lt. Pete Davison who glanced out the window at his team as they worked out while he listened on the phone.

Listening to the request, he thought,  _'Yeah, we can do that. Nooo problemo. Besides they were getting a little antsy without anything special to do.'_

He spoke into the phone, "Yes, sir! My men are ready for anything required of them, sir! I await your instructions." And he hung up with a grin.

The Lieutenant's response went back up the chain of command, then to Tony.

Director Morrow asked, "When do you want them?"

"As soon as possible, sir. They have to tell us the best way to get in this place since we have no idea what it looks like."

"I'll relay your request and get back to you."

Tony again stood by Fornell, not sure how to break the news to him. Fornell studied the younger man's face a moment then asked, "What?"

"Umm, the Seal team is on the way – or will be very shortly, but they made it clear – uh, that they - "

" _What?_ You're dancing on my last nerve here!"

"They will only work alone."

Fornell's blue eyes studied the young man without expression. "How many is on the team?"

"Sixteen."

Fornell nodded. "Well, guess my boys can go home then."

"Seems like it."

Fornell nodded, took a deep breath, and walked across to the team leaders.

Tony took that opportunity to visit the FBI breakroom to get a cup of coffee. Fornell had just joined him when his phone rang.

"DiNozzo. Yes, sir. Yes, sir. Yes, sir. I understand, sir. Thank you very much, sir."

" _Who_  was  _that?"_

"SecNav. He wanted to make it clear that the Seals would be in charge of this portion of the operation, consulting with you and me. I take that to mean they will do whatever they see fit to do and will tell us what they want us to know, then we will nod and respectfully tell them 'thank you very much'!"

Fornell blew a soft whistle, then sighed. "Well, I guess we're in the clear then for a little while?"

"No. The full team will be here within a few hours and will meet us immediately after they check into quarters right there on the Naval Yard and drop their gear. We need to get over there and have all of our info lined up and ready to brief them."

"Yeah. Guess so." Getting up from his chair, the FBI man looked over at Tony for a moment, muttering quietly, "This is for young people.  _Why_  am I here?"

"Now, come on, Tobias! You know you wouldn't miss this for anything!"

Fornell just growled.

The two stopped and got something to eat, then continued on to the Naval Yard. Two teams helped them put all of the information into a succinct but comprehensive presentation.

When the Seal team trooped into the bullpen, Tony and Fornell introduced themselves and Lt. Davison introduced his team. Tony led them upstairs to the largest of the conference rooms where everyone barely fit in.

He and Fornell went through all they had to this point, as well as explaining how this whole situation came about. He put Molly's ID photo on the plasma and there were several low whistles to which Lt. Davison ordered sharply, "Stand down!"

Looking each Seal in the eye, Tony told them, "This is the agent they want to kill. She's my partner and a damn good agent."

The Lieutenant and Sgt. Blanton asked a myriad of questions which were answered as concisely as possible. Davison and Blanton talked it over for a moment, then the Lieutenant said, "I think we might be able to get some eyes on that place in Belton. Let me make a call or two."

While the Lieutenant made his calls, Tony and as many people as he could round up carried cups of coffee to the briefing room, then somebody started another big pot.

Lt. Davison walked in with a smile. "You have an MTAC here, right? We need to go there now."

Coffee cups in hand, the entire group entered MTAC as the techs were in communication with unknown people. Shortly, one of the techs said, "Stand by for satellite transmission, sirs."

At first the screen showed nearly the entire state of Texas but then focused down until it had the town of Belton drawn in so close, you could make out faces and plates on the cars.

The satellite then slowly checked the surrounding area until it found the place they were interested in. They got their first look at the compound which was a great deal bigger than they had expected. It was surrounded by at least an eight-foot wall which you could find everywhere in the Middle East, but was a strange sight to see in Texas.

The satellite took a long series of photos which would be sent straight to NCIS. Even the hangar and runway were clearly visible.

When the satellite feed ended, Tony went to collect the images while the others returned to the conference room. The photos from space were studied carefully as was the surrounding land. Following orders, Tony and Fornell let Lt. Davison and his men make their own plans for the approach and breach of the walls since that was their area of expertise.

After a long while, the Lieutenant stepped back and studied what they had drawn and written on the image, his left hand holding his right elbow as his right hand rested near his mouth. He looked around his group. "Questions!" Silence. "Okay, I guess that's the best we're going to have."

Tony asked, "Are you comfortable with it, Lieutenant?"

"Not entirely. The problem is the distance we'll have to travel even before we get there. The ground appears to be very uneven. Makes for difficult travel at night."

Fornell piped up, "Don't you guys skydive? Why not jump, then sneak up on them?"

Lt. Davison looked surprised a moment, then laughed, "Agent Fornell, that might be the best solution yet. Let me see if I can arrange that."

Tony looked at Fornell with concern and alarm. "Tobias, are you planning on going in by parachute?"

"Oh, no! No, no, no! Not me! I'll find someway to get there even if it's on a bicycle!"

"You had me worried for a minute. No way can either one of us can do what they do!"

The group of Seals chuckled at their acknowledgment of their skills.

Tony's eyes lit up. "And there's landing strip right there to land on to bring you back to DC."

Lt. Davison reentered the crowded conference room smiling, almost chuckling, as he looked at Tony. "Agent DiNozzo, you must carry a lot of weight in DC. At first the request was turned down until SecNav asked if it was in conjunction with your case. As soon as I mentioned the name DiNozzo, it was a done deal!"

Tony blushed slightly. "No. I'm just the guy who was ordered to run this case, coordinate with three other agencies and keep the CIA and NSA from killing each other or us. We've been working around the clock for almost five weeks now to get it to this point. We started with nothing. I'd say we did a pretty good job."

Sgt. Blanton agreed with a soft, "Roger that, sir!"

* * *

Tracker phoned Tank. "Tank, you're gonna love this! I have the location on a cabin this Gibbs guy owns. I bet that's where they have her stashed."

Given the coordinates, Tank studied the map a moment and smiled.

"I would think that it would be a simple log cabin. The terrain is mountainous, forested and rugged. Gibbs may well be with this girl. If so, we take him out, grab her and we're out of there."

Tank called the hangar and asked the pilot if the jet could land at Williamsport, PA. After checking a chart of runway lengths, he assured Tank that it would be no problem. "Just looking at the map, it looks like a flight time of – hmmm – about three hours," the pilot said.

"Okay, I want to get there after dark. I want four SUVs, black, tanks full, waiting for us. We'll have about a forty-mile drive ahead of us, so – figure on roughly six or seven hours to our return. We'll need to leave immediately."

"Got it. We'll be ready. You want some food catered?"

"Yeah. Follow standard procedure."

He called his troops together and set about making a new plan.

"There is an airport at Williamsport which is about forty miles from the town of Sweetwater. From there are local roads that eventually get to the cabin. GPS will pinpoint it for us. We'll need probably four SUVs waiting at the airport. We can be there within a couple of hours or less. We don't have a schematic or floorplan so we'll just have to deal with that when we get there."

Tank felt good. Finally they could move. He'd sure be glad to see the end of this one, that's for sure!

* * *

Lt. Davison answered his cell phone. "Yes, sir. That will fine, sir. We appreciate it. Yes, sir!"

He turned to the rest of the group with a smile. "Evening departure tomorrow from here to Texas, hopefully our ride can land at the airstrip and bring us right back. Otherwise, we'll have to wait for some helos to pick us up."

Tony and Fornell exchanged a happy glance.

Tony closed his tired eyes and breathed almost to himself, "Almost over." In that moment, others in the room caught a glimpse of what these agents had been working for so hard on the tall agent's face.

Sitting up straighter, Tony told the Seals, "You don't know how happy we all are to have you with us. We're all in your debt. My Director told me a just short time ago that Agent Fornell and I would follow you on the mission through MTAC. Not what I really wanted, but the two of us would just be in your way. The ball is in your court now, Lieutenant."

Lt. Davison grinned. "We're glad to be here, sir. We were getting bored, so it's good to have something productive to do while we're waiting for an assignment. We'll bring that ball back to you one way or the other."

Tony and Fornell smiled back. Of that, they had no doubt. Sixteen Navy Seals is the equivalent of fifty or more regular troops.

* * *

At the "cabin" in Maine, Gibbs and Molly were spending most of their time in front of the stone fireplace. Both were rather ill-at-ease in the midst of all this plushness. There was even a hot tub in a solarium. Yes, they were warm, comfortable with every modern convenience, plenty of food in the cabinets and freezer, but somehow, it just didn't feel right.

They enjoyed the games they brought with them, watching movies and listening to music or the radio - Gibbs was pleased when he found out that Molly not only liked country music, but knew all the words. They took Roger out regularly so he could run and get some exercise in the deep snow.

Bundled up against the brutal cold, Gibbs stood watching Roger when suddenly SPLAT! A cold wet snowball hit him right in the ear.

After a very brief moment of shock, he turned to glare fiercely at a pair of sparkling, mischievous brown eyes just before a prolonged snowball fight of major proportions broke out. Roger thought this was the best game he'd ever seen. He chased the airborne ammo back and forth across the property, barking happily and running off a lot of pent-up energy. Cold, wet and laughing, they returned to the warmth of the house for dry clothes and some hot chocolate. Roger loved every minute of the brisk rubdown he received which was followed by a good brushing.

And speaking of snow, there was more on the way. The weatherman on the radio explained how all the various forces were building to create a massive mega-blizzard with heretofore unknown quantities of snow and very high wind expected. Molly didn't like the idea of being trapped in a place the she couldn't get out of, even if it was a fancy house in the middle of nowhere.

Gibbs caught the expression on her face. "Ya alright, Molly?"

"Yeah," she responded but it sounded unconvincing.

He moved over and put his arm around her and pulled her close to his side with a half-smile. "What's wrong? You getting tired of me?"

Molly looked up startled, "Oh, no, Jethro! I love – um, bein' with you! I'm – I'm a little uncomfortable with bein' snowed in, bein' trapped, not able to get out."

"Yeah, I can understand that. But if we can't get out, nobody can get in, hmm? Besides, I want you to teach me how to play poker."

She smiled, accepting his comfort, "Okay."

Her life had been totally turned upside down for more than a year and a half now and filled with more stress than can be imagined. Gibbs had to wonder how she managed to stay so calm. Finally he asked her.

Her head ducked down a little. At last, she did her little half-shrug and muttered, "I don't know."

Those blue eyes knew better. "You know. There's a reason you don't want to say."

"It would be – awkward, I think."

"You're not going to tell me?"

Molly was really tense. "No."

Molly didn't want to tell him that she felt safe because of  _him._  Because he was always right there for her. She felt sheltered, protected. Because – because she felt something – she didn't know what word to use. She definitely felt something but didn't know what to call it.

It  _would_  be awkward to say or try to explain it. She knew he was just being nice to her; she was one of his agents and he was probably so protective of her because one of the previous women who had served on his team had been killed right in front of him. That was certainly understandable – but – how on earth could she even think about this – but she was feeling more and more - attracted to him – and that could never see the light of day!

To go from a boss like John Carson to one like Jethro Gibbs was a major culture shock to her and she wondered if she was simply responding to that difference. To be honest, she had no idea what she was experiencing but she couldn't let Gibbs know. She didn't want him to throw her off his team for improper – whatever it was. She was already guilty of insubordination.

Gibbs was a little surprised to see glistening tears trying to form in her eyes. "It's okay, Molly. I - didn't mean to push you."

Not trusting her voice, she just nodded. But now that one or tears had made their way out, the rest wanted out, too, and she had no idea why. It didn't occur to her that the events of the past month or so raised her stress levels greatly and at some point all that emotional stress had to be released, no matter how long it took.

"Excuse me, Jethro," she said softly. "I'm goin' upstairs for a while." And she quickly left with Roger right behind her.

She went into the first bedroom she came to, stretched out across the bed on its exorbitantly expensive cover and managed to keep most of the flood of tears at bay. Through her blurry eyes she made out a box of tissues on the nightstand and put it beside her to to wipe her face and clear her nose.

Roger pawed at the bed and whined. He was distressed to see her this way. He finally contented himself by sitting as close to the bed as he could next to where her head was resting.

Downstairs, Gibbs was concerned. He thought back over the conversation that wound up with her in near tears. Why does she feel secure and calm and why would she be upset over the answer? It certainly was something she didn't want to tell him, but couldn't figure out what that might be. He had never seen a reaction from her like this.

Maybe it was just that everything was now hitting her at once since they had been what she called 'on the run'. He decided to go up and see if she was okay.

Seeing her in the bedroom, he quietly walked over and laid down on his side near her and very gently began rubbing her back and shoulders with one big hand as the other propped up his head.

Gibbs asked very softly, "What's the matter, Molly? Everything crashing down on you? You've been through an awful lot, ya know. Anything I can do?"

Molly finally turned so she could look at him. "Jethro, you do everything now. You are the reason I'm even alive. I would have died back home if it hadn't been for you. And probably would have died in DC if it hadn't been for you. Look where we are now, practically at the North Pole and you're still keepin' me safe."

"Shoot, you've allowed me to live in your home, and work in the same place. And I'm happy with that. I've taken care of myself for a long time and have been through some really bad things on the job, but I knew I could do it. But now I don't feel that confidence anymore but I'm not really sure why. I'm scared, but I don't want to be a burden to you. That just wouldn't be right."

Gibbs looked at those worried brown eyes and smiled, his eyes intent and sincere as he told her, "Molly, there's no way any of that would upset me. I like being with you. You're interesting and I like to talk with you. I like being with you. As for my house, I'd be happy if you just stayed. You've changed a lot in me, Molly, and it's all for the better. So see, it's not a one-way street. Okay?"

She nodded and whispered, "You're a really good man, Jethro."

With that crooked half-smile, he ducked his head at her compliment. There were some things he was just really soft-hearted about and she happened to be one of them. "Tired?"

"Yeah. Suddenly I feel like somebody pulled the plug on my power supply."

"Well, come down by the fire and I'll wrap you up so you can sleep. Okay?"

Oh, lord! Wrap up and sleep close to him by the fire. Now she felt as if she was really pushing the limit of her self-restraint - but there was no way she was going to turn him down.  _'Girl, you are playin' with fire!'_

Soft smile in place, she nodded and took his offered hand to help her back onto her feet.

No way would she tell him the real reason. He'd surely fire her for unprofessionalism, conduct unbecoming, etc. – and she'd be guilty as charged.

* * *

~ Continued ~

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Carolina Connection Series: Book 1, part 1: BEGINNINGS  
> The Carolina Connection Series: Book 1, part 2: VENDETTA

* * *

 

Tank's men were on their way to Pennsylvania. He felt really good that this mission would soon be over. He still hadn't heard from PacMan but he'd deal with that later.

The sleek jet streaked through the sky, then touched down in Williamsport right on time. The four requested SUVs were waiting and were quickly filled with men and equipment.

Getting on the road right away, there was a quiet contained excitement in the air in the vehicles. Nobody talked except Tank who directed the lead vehicle from the map and GPS. It took a little over three hours due to the twisting, narrow roads and snow on the ground.

After turning onto the rutted track, they stopped some distance from the cabin and viewed it through special night vision binoculars. The cabin was dark with no signs of life, though the occupants were probably asleep.

Broken into several teams, each had a place to be and a duty to perform. Each man slid in place perfectly and very quietly began moving in on their target. In place close to the cabin now, there was still no sign of life, though it appeared that a vehicle of some sort had been here. Snow had fallen but careful study showed there was enough indentation in the snow cover to discern the track it had taken in and out.

Tank eased up on the porch and looked in the window. Empty. No signs of a fire or embers in the fireplace. They were gone. Rage nearly consumed him but he fought and pushed it down inside. It would be stored there until the time it was really needed. Then it would allow him to do anything he needed to do, giving him almost herculean strength and ability.

He slowly walked around the simple sturdy building, finding only a cold generator, then returned to the vehicle. "Airport," was the only word he spoke. The men in the SUVs were silent. Ya win some, ya lose some, and some get rained out.

On the flight back, Tank tried to think what tact to try next. She hadn't been found in DC. She wasn't in the cabin in PA. No luck reported by the team in Carolina. Where in hell was she?

Since she disappeared so quickly, maybe there was a safe house right there in DC. Dammit! If PacMan and Thumper had just carried out their mission, they'd probably have her by now. Unless more intel turned up, he was simply going to back down. If the client didn't like it, he could hire somebody else.

Back at the Texas compound, the men almost silently went to their respective quarters and stowed equipment. Most got showers and went to bed. A few sat up reading or watching a movie. Tank went to his quarters, opened a fifth of Jack Daniels and proceeded to get drunk. Different people dealt with post-mission let down in different ways. He and ol' Jack had been together a long time.

* * *

The big C130 droned through the night sky headed for Texas. The Seal Team on board would be making a HALO (high altitude, low opening) jump and would arrive silently. Their targets would never know they had company until it was too late.

The jump was executed perfectly. Chutes corralled, they grabbed their weapons and packs and slipped silently up to the compound. It was quiet except for a muted laugh now and then and a few murmured voices.

When the rather primitive lock on the gate was broken, the team infiltrated silently and made a careful sweep of the compound grounds before slipping into the sprawling building, identifying how many and where. After that's when the fun began.

They entered the building without being detected. A two-man team broke off and captured the first mercenary asleep and took him outside in cuffs. He was made to sit on the ground in silence.

Shots were heard inside and one of the two Seals rejoined the main force After the first shots were fired, it became a firefight through the entire complex. The Seals had two down with non-fatal gunshot wounds but the team corpsman was taking care of them.

It was slow work but the Seals went about their work quickly, methodically capturing, cuffing and silencing gunfire, as those assigned to collect papers, computers and intel did just that.

Several Seals assigned to secure the runway made sure it was clear then set out small lights to outline the length and width of the runway. The lights would guide the National Guard Reservists who usually flew Seals wherever they needed to go, then the big C130 rumbled to earth and rolled out to a stop with room to spare. One thing about these huge machines, they could take off and land just about anywhere; a runway wasn't really needed for them.

Its rear ramp lowered, prisoners were brought aboard and secured. Intel was brought aboard, as were black body bags.

A last sweep of the compound and they were out, including the very drunk Tidwell himself. How embarrassing to get drunk in Texas only to wake up and find yourself cuffed and under arrest in Washington without a clue how you got there.

The Seals were so good at their craft that they were in, did what they had to do, then were right back out slick as grease. Business was taken care of and they were headed home. There were quiet smiles in their eyes with collective pride in a job well done.

In MTAC, DiNozzo and Fornell had chills all over them watching the mission go down so smoothly due to the sharply honed skills of these remarkable warriors.

As soon as the aircraft reached altitude, Davison contacted them by radio and gave his intial report, number of prisoners and number of dead. Mission accomplished.

Tony practically collapsed with relief. This bunch would never bother anyone else again. Tobias had a team of agents enroute to go through the compound with a fine-toothed comb and scour every inch of the place. Answers to many unsolved crimes might be found there.

He wasn't going to call in the wee hours of the morning, but Tony could hardly wait to tell Gibbs the news. Somehow, all of them together had done it. It was over.

* * *

Alvada was livid. All contact with Tank had been lost, as if they had simply disappeared. He knew that somehow they had been captured or killed. But who? How?

He reentered his lavish guest quarters and called for a fresh drink. The desert sun could be very hot, though it was pleasantly cool in the interior of this desert palace despite not having air conditioning. The Prince was quite a host, seeing to it that a guest's every whim was taken care of immediately.

Sitting in the cool dim light, sipping on the cold drink, Alvada calmed himself. Never make decisions when the blood is running hot from either anger or passion. Good advice. He wished he could remember to follow it at all times.

It was hard to really accept that Tank's operation had been taken out. So much had gone wrong ever since that bunch moved into Wilmington and all but destroyed his empire. He was emphasizing weapon sales now. He'd rebuild the drug side of things bit by bit. All the contacts were still there, so it shouldn't be too hard.

And he wanted his yacht back. It had been custom-built especially for him and he was very much at home on it.

Oh, they had so very much to pay for. One by one, they would pay with their own flesh and blood and tears and agony. She was only the first one. Knowing that he had her would cause great pain to the others. He'd let them suffer for a while. Perhaps send them a few photos of her enjoying the Middle East or whatever place she wound up in.

A smile creased his dusky face. It might take a while, but he would extract his price from them with great pleasure.

* * *

Molly and Gibbs grinned when Tony gave them the news, then looked outside at additional six feet of snow now on the ground in addition to the several feet that were already there and just had to laugh. Gibbs told Tony they would get out as soon as they could but it might be summer. Eyes sparkling, Molly threw her arms around Gibbs, bubbling over with happiness that her freedom had been restored. She couldn't wait to get all the details of how it had happened.

Gibbs laughed with her, then kissed the top of her head. "Well, you're in the clear for now."

She took a deep breath as if those words alone gave her a sense of freedom that had been lost since before everything broke loose at home. She could drive her new Jeep. She could go out shopping. She could go back and forth as she pleased. The feeling of relief even brought a hint of tears to her eyes. Free!

She walked over to one of the many floor-to-almost ceiling windows and looked at the massive amount of snow banked up against it. The snow outside would be way over her head! How long would it take this stuff to melt, anyway? Her impatience made her want to go out and start shoveling which Gibbs laughed at and earned him a defiant glare.

The storm had raged for hours upon hours as screaming wind blew extraordinary amounts of fresh snowfall. Visibility had been zero. The weather people had not been wrong. This storm left snowfall that broke all existing records. And now the temperature had fallen far below zero. It would be a long, long time before this snow melted.

Roger really wanted – _needed_  - to go out, but finding a door they could even open was proving difficult. Finally they found the answer in a basement they hadn't realized existed. There was a small area just outside a door that had mostly been protected by the high winds, and the happy dog could get out there. Well, just far enough to tend to business but at least he was out, much to his great relief.

He sniffed the cold air for a moment and bit at some of the snow but didn't seem interested in anything except getting back inside and soaking up the warmth by the fireplace.

Molly went into the kitchen and did an accounting of their food stock. They were okay for a while, and there was a fully stocked pantry and freezer in the basement. They'd be okay. Even the supply of firewood seemed almost endless so if the power plant quit because the caretaker couldn't get out, they at least had the fireplace.

Gibbs observed her actions silently but with approval in his eyes. Caution led to preparedness which led to survival.

When they had returned to their places in front of the fire, Molly asked softly, "Jethro – do you think – Alvada will stop now?"

"Don't know. Doubt it."

She nodded. She knew it but needed to hear it from someone else. "It will never stop until one of us is dead."

Gibbs wanted to give her hope but knew the truth was always better in the long run. "He's not a quitter, Molly, but neither are we."

She just nodded as she studied the plush carpet on the floor. How could she track him? She was good with a computer but would likely need the help of someone with greater skills. Actually, the CIA was the agency that was geared to get information like that, but she didn't know a single soul over there.

She looked at Gibbs with her head slightly tipped. "Jethro? Do you have any contacts in the CIA?"

"Uh-huh."

"Seems to me they are the group that should be looking for him. They have agents everywhere, don't they?"

"Uh-huh and they have the BOLO."

Her dark head nodded again as she continued to think. He just watched, waiting for her to ask.

Finally, she looked at him again with serious brown eyes. "Would you introduce me to someone over there, or can I just go visit, tell them what I need?"

Gibbs laughed. "No, I don't think you'd get very far with that. They are aware but they tell very little. We probably won't hear a word until they call and simply say he's dead."

She sighed again and directed her stare at the deep snow packed against the tall windows. Gibbs didn't exactly know what she was thinking but he saw the combination of sadness and anger in her eyes. Knowing her as he did now, he knew that was not a good combination under any circumstances.

"What are you thinking, Molly?"

"Maybe I can find him myself. If Tim could help me now and then by checking on things that I can't, I can probably trace him."

Gibbs slid over beside her and wrapped an arm around her. His voice was very quiet but very firm as he spoke, "Molly, don't even think of trying that. I mean it. There are life-long professionals doing that very thing. If they can't locate him, you can't."

She started to protest but that quiet voice cut her off.

"I mean it, Molly. You would have to be involved with people who are worse than Alvada. Trust me on this. You know I do everything humanly possible to keep you safe. That you can always count on. Do you trust me?"

Those brown eyes flashed up to his. "With my life, Gibbs, as you've done ever since we first met!" She blushed as she remembered the gunshot graze on her side that he had insisted she let him check.

Gibbs chuckled as he sought to divert her thoughts. "You know you'll be off probation by the time we get back? I'm proud of you, Molly. You're done an outstanding job and have taken everything we've thrown at you without complaint. That's why your probationary time was cut. I'm glad to have you on the team."

"Thank you, Jethro. I've done my best."

"I know you have. You getting hungry yet?"

"I guess so. I haven't cooked anything. What do you want?"

"Dunno. Let's go look."

* * *

DiNozzo and Fornell decided to be co-interrogators in questioning the prisoners; at this point, they just wanted the case closed. The Naval Yard holding cells were almost full. One by one, the prisoners were brought up to the interrogation room. Their identities had already been determined through fingerprints in AFIS, so they could move straight onto their joining up with Tidwell and the "missions" they had carried out.

Some were a little more talkative than others but none wanted to give up very much. Tidwell was the tough one. He was demanding to know how they had learned his name and his location. Tony just looked back at him with poorly concealed amusement, intended to infuriate the big man and doing just that.

Often, when a prisoner became angry enough, he would reveal incriminating information about himself or his activities without intending to. Tony's sharp mind was working overtime as he both listened and planned his next questions without changing the half-mocking smile on his face.

DiNozzo reminded Fornell of a baseball pitcher who would throw a series of pitches, just setting up the batter for the one pitch that would cause him to strike out. Smooth. The more he was around the young agent, the more impressed he was with him. No wonder he could trick Eli David into admitting his lies and deceptions. At times, Tim spelled them and was quite effective in his questions.

Everybody was thoroughly worn out with this case. It seemed that it had consumed their lives relentlessly. At least the other teams were able to get back to their own work. Balboa's team was handling the Gibbs Team assignments until everything was complete.

The one thing all the interrogators wanted was how Alvada and Tidwell contacted each other. The only person with that information was Tidwell and he wasn't talking. He was holding that back as a bargaining chip if it was needed. If they had people back in Texas going through his office, things might get pretty tight for him – and he had no doubt that they did.

Tim & Abby spent long, long hours processing everything for forensic evidence before turning the information over to the interrogators.

Everyone would be so glad when Gibbs and Molly could get back. Which might be a while. Meteorologists were still talking about the stunning blizzard through the uppermost New England states, the worst of which was in Maine. Well, some things just couldn't be helped.

Days passed, then weeks as the case ground on while lawyers demanded this, that and the other. Tony felt as if he wanted to just go somewhere where nobody knew him and he could just sleep. Sleep and eat pizza and watch movies without a care in the world. But as he thought of Molly, he knew it do it all over again if it meant her safety.

Fornell and Tony finally went  _out_  to get some coffee and something besides take-out to eat. Sitting across the booth from each other in a diner, they were quiet as each thought back over what had been accomplished.

Fornell looked at Tony and said in an exhausted tone, "Damn, I'm tired of looking at your face!"

Tony just grunted. "You looked in the mirror lately?"

They grinned at each other and ate in easy silence.

* * *

In Maine, Molly and Gibbs passed time by her teaching him to play poker. Her way. Then they had practice games – and he steadily improved though he grumbled, "I been playing poker for most of my life and now a pint-sized girl is teaching me."

Molly just smiled with sparkling eyes and shuffled the deck.

Roger was getting more and more bored. He began playing chasing games all over the big house, upstairs and down. On the hard wood floors, his feet would skid out from under him and he'd slide until he bumped into a piece of furniture. He was so funny to watch and neither of the humans could ever figure out what he was supposedly chasing. But when you get bored enough, it doesn't take a lot to entertain you.

The movies were now in reruns, but there were several Molly watched over and over. "Islands In The Sky," "Blacksheep Squadron," "Airport" and other aviation movies Gibbs had selected simply because of the genre. Thanks to the understanding she had given him in teaching the boys to fly, he now had greater appreciation of old films like these and enjoyed them himself.

"What got you interested in flying?"

"My grandfather," she answered with a soft smile as she thought of him. "He loved to fly but had little opportunity in that day and time, but he never forgot the few flights he was able to take when barnstormers came through. He described them to me so clearly, so vividly. As soon as I got old enough, I'd swap doin' odd jobs at the airport in exchange for a little flyin' time. I cleaned hangers, washed airplanes, ran errands and stuff like that."

"When I was fifteen my grandmother died and granddaddy followed her less than a year later. They left me their life savin's and life insurance, which wasn't huge, but it allowed me to get my private license, instructor's license and commercial license. From there I used what I earned from instructin' to get multi-engine ratings and others."

"I used what I earned from those ratings to pay for education where I finally got a degree in Criminal Justice with emphasis on law enforcement. Then I just kept studyin' and eventually got a Master's Degree in that, then went back and did the remainin' courses in Criminal Justice that focused on forensics until I had a Bachelor's Degree in that. Then got a regular BA in law enforcement."

"You have two BAs  _and_  a Master's degree?"

"Yeah. I didn't really have time for friends, especially after I started at DEA. My hours were so erratic and out-of-step with the rest of the world, it just didn't work. I had some good acquaintances, but not real friends. So I studied."

Gibbs just kept looking at her, then gathered her in a hug which she wanted to last forever. "You deserve a better life than that."

"Oh, it wasn't a bad life, Jethro. Especially after I got Roger. He was bein' retired from the Corps and was available for adoption. I jumped at the chance and took some vacation time at Camp Lejeune meetin' him and both of us gettin' to know each other. We just seemed to – click, so I was finally given custody of him. We've been together ever since. He's  _so_  smart! Knows not only verbal commands, but many hand signals, too."

She laughed. "When I was learnin' the hand signals at LeJeune, I'd sometimes get them mixed up or forgot one. When I'd mess up, Roger would just sit down with a big sigh and look at me with the funniest frownin' expression on his face. He'd just crack me up. Then he'd look at me as if to say, 'Don't laugh at me. You're the one who messed up!' "

"Didn't you date?"

"A little when I was in high school. After that I was too busy studyin' and workin' all the time. These days with you in the cabin and here are the most consecutive days I've had 'free time' since I can remember. It's been nice and – and I've loved bein' with you."

"Anybody would be priviledged to be in your company, Molly."

He had spoken so softly she hardly knew what to say. She finally managed an awkward, "Th- thank you, Jethro. That's - very kind."

"You wanta watch another movie or fix something to eat?"

* * *

At a lavish dinner with the Prince that evening, Alvada waited for the right moment to ask a private question of him. When that moment came, he asked.

"Hmm. I understand the dilemma, my friend. I perhaps know of someone who may have that knowledge. I'll be in touch with him shortly."

Alvada felt great satisfaction inside but he maintained the calm, pleasant demeanor on the outside. He couldn't wait.

* * *

Gibbs had declared if he never saw another snowflake in his life, he'd be happy. He, Molly and Roger felt like they'd been released from prison when the snow finally melted enough that they could begin the long trek back to Washington nearly a month later. Remote roads high in the mountains weren't cleaned by road crews.

It was a Tuesday late-afternoon when they tiredly pulled into the evidence garage. Gibbs had called about an hour out so everyone was on hand to greet them. Roger was relishing all this attention from these humans! He wasn't exactly sure where he was but he was glad to be here.

The big SUV was unloaded with most of it going into Gibbs' sedan, the remainder in Molly's pristine red Jeep. It had only twenty-one miles on it. She stood looking at it quietly. Tim came up behind her, asking, "What are you thinking about so hard?"

"About the day I bought it."

"It's in the past now, Molly. You have a life to begin again."

She smiled a bit half-heartedly, then put the box she was carrying in the back of the Jeep. Roger followed her over to the Jeep, sniffing carefully. There was something so familiar about this thing but it didn't smell the same. He looked at Molly with questions in his intelligent eyes. Apparently he had blocked that one short, wild ride in it from his memory.

"We have a new one, Roger. We'll go for a ride in it shortly, okay?" His tail wagged as if he understood every word. She wouldn't have doubted it.

The bullpen turned into something like a family reunion. Even Director Morrow came down and listened to all the conversation.

Tony turned to Molly asking, "Is something wrong, MollyMac? You're awfully quiet over there."

Everyone seemed to stop and turned to look at her, waiting on her answer. "I want to know what happened. All of it," she told him in a soft voice backed with steel. "I want to see the ones you caught; look them in the eye. They were willing to kill me for money. I want to see them."

Tony dragged a chair over to her desk, took both of her hands and quietly began to talk, telling her everything that had taken place, and all that had happened since the Seals' return from Texas.

"Everyone of them is in jail, MollyMac. And they aren't getting out any time soon! It's over. And almost every agency in the world is on the lookout for Alvada. It is thought that he's in Saudi Arabia right now. He won't be able to elude everybody long. They'll get him."

She looked down at her hands, then looked up at him. "Thank all of you for all you've done. I can never repay you for it."

"Aren't you happy about it?"

"Oh, yes! Very much so! But - I can't help but wonder if the next bunch is on their way? Has Alvada already hired them? How long before they try to kill me, too?"

It was quiet for a moment until the general conversation picked up again. Abby, nearly six feet tall herself, gave Molly a huge hug and picked her up completely off the floor.

A little later, Gibbs approached and asked quietly, "You ready to go home?"

She gave him a small smile and nodded. She wondered if her life would ever settle down again.

They're coming for her. She knew it.

* * *

The MCRT worked hard catching up on paperwork, as well as assuming their own calls, of which there were too many. Thankfully, no one of them took long to solve, but they generated more paperwork that had to be done.

Another Monday rolled around and they were back at work again. Molly was down in the lab with Abby looking over some old evidence for a cold case she was working on, when a package was brought to the bullpen with her name on it. It had been scanned for explosives and cleared by security.

Gibbs, DiNozzo and McGee looked at each other with concern. There was no return address but it was mailed from Saudi Arabia. Chills ran through each of them.

Molly returned to the bullpen with a happy smile on her face, but she stopped still when she saw the expressions on the faces of her teammates.

"What's wrong?"

Gibbs answered, "Package for you. From Saudi Arabia."

Molly's heart sank to her toes. No. Not now. Not so soon. She needed this happy break. Her eyes rested on the package wondering if she should even open it.

Gibbs took matters into his own hands and swept the box from her desk as his long legs quickly took him from the room.

When Gibbs returned upstairs, Molly turned away from the window with questions in her eyes. Gibbs just shook his head. "You don't need to know, Molly. Abby will check for any possible evidence then they'll be destroyed."

Her team saw that she wasn't satisfied with that answer, so Gibbs approached her and knelt down beside her desk, saying softly,     "They are things – related to a sick perversion; an attempt to cause you mental stress. But you'll never be taken from us. Believe that, Molly! You'll  _never_  be taken away!"

His reference to perversion could only mean that whoever sent it (Alvada?) intended for her to understand what was coming in her life.

Her face pale, she rose and made her way to the ladies room. Her stomach felt as if it was going to rebel any second. In a few moments, strong arms wrapped around her and held her securely.

"I'm so sorry this happened, Molly. Try to put it out of your mind. Release it," Gibbs soft, low voice murmured in her ear.

At some point, Tony entered the restroom and wet some paper towels with which to wipe her flushed face. Tim stood outside the door on guard duty. Gibbs looked up at his SFA with a raised brow to which Tony nodded.

Molly honestly wondered if she'd ever have a peaceful life again. This mental torture was as bad as physical torture would be. Was there any place she could go? She felt helpless to stop this spiral of madness into which her life was descending.

After a time, Gibbs led her out of the restroom and straight to the elevator and out the door where his sedan sat idling with Roger already in the back seat. Tim got out of the driver's seat and walked around to the passenger door which had been opened by the boss.

Tim gently held Molly for a long, long moment, only saying when he stepped back, "Molly, we're on this. Don't let them frighten you. That's exactly what they want so don't give them the satisfaction. You know when this team digs in on something, we don't stop until we have the answers. Okay?" A quick peck on her cheek and Tim stepped back as Gibbs got her in the car and fastened her seat belt, then he handed the boss her creds, badge and weapon.

Molly never said a word all the way home. When she worked with DEA and dealt with the druggies, she was accustomed to working alone. It was surprising how far she could go into an investigation right by herself. Maybe that's what she had to do now. The team worked as hard as they could and did their absolute best. But perhaps she needed to move out of that mindset and return to her street instincts that had been finely honed during her years investigating drug crimes.

Gibbs kept an eye on Molly as he drove. He noted the expression on her face and the set of her jaw and knew what she was thinking. He'd have to find a way to stop her and hoped she'd accept it, though he wasn't sure how successful he'd be. She could be even more stubborn than he himself was – and  _that_  was saying something.

Reaching home, he opened her door and kept an arm around her as he walked her into the house. Sitting her on the couch, he went to the kitchen and started a pot of coffee and made a cup of tea for Molly. He opened his phone and punched in a number.

"Hey, Duck," he said softly. "Got time to stop by before you go home?" "Yeah. Abby is processing them now."  
"Not good. Hasn't said a word." "Okay. Thanks, Duck."

That night is when the nightmares began. Molly would wake up shaking and crying, rigidly tense and disoriented. After the third time that night, Gibbs just stayed in her room, holding her which seemed to help. At least he was able to get some sleep, as well.

The next morning, Molly was withdrawn and quiet. She responded when spoken to but attempted no conversation herself. Gibbs wasn't sure she should go to work but he wouldn't leave her alone. He told her to get dressed and she moved to obey without comment. He sighed and rubbed his face. And she had been so happy since their return from Maine. Dammit, anyway!

Molly, face still pale, smudges under her eyes, entered the bullpen with Roger and went straight to her desk and removed the folder she had been working on yesterday from a locked drawer and turned on her computer. Tony and Tim watched in silence as she appeared to settle in to work. Not once since she had been there had she ever failed to cheerfully greet everyone in the morning; this morning was the first and they hoped the last. The quiet was uneasy and unpleasant.

Gibbs went upstairs and met with the Director for a time, then returned to the bullpen and his desk, his eyes meeting with his two more senior agents, giving them a raised eyebrow and one tiny nod of his head. He did a little paperwork, then got up, saying, "DiNozzo, with me!"

Without another word, they left. Tim stood and tentatively asked, "Ah, you want some coffee, Molly? I'll go get us some."

She looked up with the saddest eyes he'd ever seen, saying just above a whisper, "Thanks, Tim."

He returned as quickly as possible and received another quiet thanks, then she returned to her work. As Tim watched, he realized that she was trying to bury herself in work. As different things had transpired through the years, he had done the same thing but had learned that it did nothing in helping him deal with the crux of the matter. Sooner or later, he had to come face to face with it.

But her situation really was a little different. Other than what he'd told her yesterday, he had no idea what to say to her. Well, he'd try to carry on as usual. Maybe the normalcy would help her adjust and cope.

* * *

~ Continued ~

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Carolina Connection Series: Book 1, part 1: BEGINNINGS  
> The Carolina Connection Series: Book 1, part 2: VENDETTA
> 
> (Kidnapping involved so if that offends you, please be aware.)

* * *

 

Gibbs and DiNozzo met with Fornell in his office. Fornell was enraged when told about the foul objects sent to Molly. He stormed around, bellowing dire threats and promises to Alvada for a good five minutes. When he resumed his seat, he face was red and his blue eyes were fiery.

"All right. What do you need, Jethro? Just tell me."

"I'm not sure, Tobias, but we've got to find a way to stop this dirtbag and stop him now. Molly has all but shut down. Honestly, I'm not sure how much more she can rebound from. I'm willing to listen."

Fornell sat and thought a minute then picked up his phone and pushed a button. After a moment, he said, "Yes, sir. I'd appreciate a few minutes of your time. Yes, sir, we're on the way up."

Replacing the office phone in its cradle, he got up and said, "Come on."

In the elevator, they went all the way to the top and found themselves before the door to the large office of the Director of the FBI. Entering the outer office, a quiet, very professional woman asked them to have a seat and she'd see if the Director was ready to receive them.

When she returned, she held the door and said with a polite smile, "Go right in, gentlemen. May I bring you coffee?"

All three gave a quiet "No, thank you" and entered the inner sanctum of the FBI Director. Fornell started off reminding the Director of the recent joint operation headed by NCIS.

"It appears that the problem is still ongoing." Then he explained what had happened the day before. The Director's face turned hard as he listened. He asked questions of the two NCIS agents and of Fornell.

Since the injury, death, or harassment of any federal agent fell under the purview of the FBI, the Director knew he had to do whatever was required to see that this was stopped, once and for all. He also knew that he may have to call in some markers, but he'd do what was necessary.

Telling the three agents he would have more to tell them shortly, he dismissed them and made some phone calls.

Downstairs, the senior agent bought coffee for each of them then they waited for the Director's call. DiNozzo silently stared at the far wall of the office as thoughts raced through his mind, then he studied his boss with slightly narrowed eyes.

Gibbs finally turned to him, asking quietly, "Something on your mind, DiNozzo?"

"Well, actually, yes. How are your sharpshooting skills these days, Boss? I hear Saudi Arabia is nice this time of year."

Gibbs just snorted, but his own thoughts had not been all that different. Fornell observed his friend, understanding full well what he was thinking. "Let's see what the Director has to say first," he said quietly.

After what felt like an eternity, the Director's secretary called informing them of the Director's desire to see them at their earliest convienience – which actually meant as fast as the elevator could get to the top floor.

The upshot of the Director's information was that the incident was now under the full scrutiny of the agencies, including Interpol, in a position to gather whatever information necessary to apprehend Carlos Alvada at the very first possible moment. No one would get away with threatening or terrorizing any federal agent, in the US or out.

He wouldn't provide any other details but promised to keep them in the loop as much as possible. He would contact them. In otherwords, don't call me, I'll call you.

* * *

Carlos Alvada knew he was regarded as a dangerous man, but when he met the man the Prince's contact suggested, he almost shivered. Never had he seen eyes like those in the man's face. He briefly outlined what he wanted done. The other man, who never gave his name, nodded and spoke, "Twenty million American dollars."

Carlos nearly blanched at the figure. But, if that was the price, that was the price. Alvada nodded. "Done."

He slid a packet across the table that contained all the information known about that woman and her immediate contacts at NCIS. The man's beefy hand picked it up, snarling, "Half now, half on delivery."

Alvada nodded. "I will have it by morning."

The man got up from the small bistro table in the morning sun to be instantly swallowed up by the crowds in the busy market place.

Alvada smiled. He knew there would be success this time. He was tired of waiting. He wanted his first payment of retribution. He smiled. It would happen quickly now.

* * *

As time passed with no further sign of Alvada's hired guns, Molly slowly began to relax a little. There had been no more hideous packages, no tails, nothing. Yes, she allowed herself to relax a bit but she'd always remain alert for the next group she knew had to be coming. It was very tiring living that way.

It was Friday afternoon and the sun was shining. Early summer had arrived but the killing humidity hadn't yet moved in for the season. Molly looked up at her boss and asked softly, "Jethro, may I leave now? I'm – just goin' to drive around for a while."

He hesitated a moment before nodding. Then she took a deep breath and smiled. "I won't be late."

Gibbs just nodded. Actually, he didn't want her to go alone but after all this time, she deserved to be able to be normal for a little while.

She picked up Roger's leash and clipped it to his harness, saying with a soft smile, "Come on, Rog. Let's go see how the rest of the world is doin'."

She disappeared down the stairs with her closest friend. Gibbs stood at one of the big windows that overlooked the front entrance and saw her leave the building and head toward the NCIS parking area.

His gut wasn't happy. Was it that he had just gotten so accustomed to watching after her, protecting her at every turn – or was it a new warning? He couldn't decide. He returned to his desk, pushed some papers around and tried to concentrate but gave up.

He stood, telling McGee and DiNozzo to finish up whatever they were doing and go home, then he disappeared down the stairs. The two agents exchanged a look, not sure what was going on.

DiNozzo asked, "You think it has something to do with MollyMac?"

McGee answered quietly, "Wouldn't surprise me. What do you want to do?"

"I don't know. Why don't we stick around for a little while and see if anything comes up?"

McGee nodded. "Yeah, I'm not comfortable with this somehow."

* * *

Gibbs' eyes searched the area but there was no sign of a new red Jeep. He asked the Sentry if he had noticed which way Molly went.

"Sir, I'm pretty sure she turned right onto the highway. Anything I can do for you, sir?"

"Don't call me 'sir'."

"Yes, si – yes, Agent Gibbs. Is everything alright?"

"I hope so, son. I sure hope so."

He followed the access road to the highway and turned right, eyes searching all around for any sign of her. He drove quickly for about fifteen minutes but saw no sign of her; he pulled out his phone and punched in her number. He doubted she had gotten much farther ahead of him. His blood nearly froze within him as it rang and rang and rang before going to voice mail. He felt as if he was going to throw up.

He drove on faster, scanning every direction, then - pulled off the road right behind a shiny new Jeep. Molly was no where in sight, but Roger was tied tightly to the frame. No matter how hard he had struggled, the distraught dog couldn't free himself.

At the first sign of the silver-haired human, he let out a terrifying howl of anger, angst and terror. His mistress was gone!

Gibbs untied the shepherd and put him into the back seat of the sedan, then punched in a number.

"DiNozzo."

"She's gone, DiNozzo," Gibbs said almost too softly to be heard.

It took Tony a moment to get past the shock. "Where are you, Boss? What happened?"

"Jeep is off the side of the road. Roger was tied outside. No sign of her."

"We're on the way, Boss! Anything you want done before we leave?"

Gibbs just closed his phone. Alvada had sent his next set of hounds. His eyes took in the buildings and businesses in the area. Not the best but far from the worst. For once, his brilliant mind just shut down for a moment.

' _Why did I let her leave? Why didn't I listen to my gut? Where to even start looking?'_  He was still standing in the same spot when a Virginia State Trooper pulled up behind his car.

"Agent Gibbs? I'm Trooper John Cansler. We received a call that you needed assistance. Can you tell me what's going on, sir?"

Gibbs just muttered, "Don't call me 'sir.'

The Trooper took in the demeanor of the man before him and saw all the symptoms of shock. "Come sit in my car with me, Agent Gibbs. I need some information if you don't mind."

Finally turning his eyes to the Trooper, Gibbs said clearly, "NCIS Special Agent Molly MacKenzie has been kidnapped by person or persons unknown. The Jeep is hers." Nodding toward the restless, unhappy dog in the back of his car, he said, "There is no way on God's green earth she'd ever voluntarily leave that dog behind. I found him tied to the frame of the Jeep."

When Gibbs called, DiNozzo immediately called Abby and told her to start tracking Roger and Molly.

As he and McGee raced out of the Yard, Abby called with the location of Roger and there was one blip on Molly adjacent to or in the Jeep.

When they arrived on the scene, DiNozzo nodded to the Trooper, quickly introduced himself as the one who had called for assistance for his boss until he and his partner could reach him.

"Boss?"

Gibbs stood unmoving, staring at the Jeep.

"Boss!" Tony put a hand on Gibbs' shoulder. Slowly, those ultra-ice blue eyes turned to the SFA. "She's gone, Tony."

"We'll find her, Boss. She'll be okay. You know she always lands on her feet. We'll find her!"

A quick soft word to McGee then DiNozzo moved toward the abandoned Jeep, stopping some distance away so he wouldn't disturb possible footprints left in the dirt. The keys were in the ignition, but everything else seemed normal.

Molly's sunglasses were in the dirt not far from where Roger had been tied, but he couldn't get close enough to see inside the Jeep to see what was pinging on Abby's screen.

McGee was busy making calls to the Director, to Balboa and his team, and to Fornell at the FBI. There were no buildings close by on this side of the road, so McGee crossed to the other side to question people, hoping someone had seen something.

With somber faces, Balboa's team arrived to process the scene. Gibbs remarked quietly that he had been on the far side to untie Roger but had touched nothing else.

The Trooper set out flares to steer traffic to the inside lane to protect the agents working the scene so close to the road.

Fornell came with two carloads of agents. He questioned Gibbs on what little he knew, alarmed at the expression and stiff, disassociated posture of his friend. This was the polar opposite of the Gibbs everyone knew.

The senior FBI agent began directing his people to varying places, assigning them to tasks.

McGee joined the group near the Jeep, reporting that two people had noticed an older white panel van and a dark-colored SUV stopped near the Jeep but were gone quickly. Neither witness had paid a great deal of attention, assuming that the men were friends of the woman in the Jeep who had come to her rescue when her Jeep conked out.

With this information as their starting point, there was so much that had to be learned before Molly could be found and time was short.

* * *

Slowly Molly began to return to consciousness. Her head throbbed with fierce intensity. She couldn't investigate what wound there might be because her hands were tightly secured behind her back to an old pipe. As much as she pulled and struggled, the pipe never budged. She tried to straighten her legs a little and got the bindings holding her hands to slide down the pipe enough that she could sit a little more comfortably.

Molly had no idea where she was. She assumed she had been knocked unconscious and didn't even know how long she had been out.

Two vehicles had appeared suddenly, forcing her to the side of the road. Threatening to kill Roger if she didn't cooperate, she was allowed to tie him to the Jeep if she'd go quietly with them.

She wasn't sure what nationality these men were, but she believed they were from the Middle East. That meant that these were Alvada's men.

What was this place? It reeked of fish and old stale things. There was so little light she could barely make out what was in this room. By the smell, it must be an old fish house, so that meant she was somewhere near saltwater.

Her shoulders were tired and beginning to ache from not being able to move. And her head felt as if it was surely going to shatter into pieces. She leaned her head back against the pipe that held her prisoner and breathed slowly and deeply, hoping to lessen the degree of pain. Spikes of pain stabbed the backs of her eyes causing her to wince badly.

Why had she come out alone like this? Just when she believed she could take one short ride alone, she's kidnapped.

She knew that Gibbs and the team would be looking for her whenever they discovered she was missing, but when would that be? Maybe somebody would report the Jeep being abandoned. More likely, they'd just steal it. Poor Roger! The thought of him being stolen or harmed brought aching tears to her eyes. She loved him so very much!

Lost in these thoughts, she was startled when a door on her far left opened on rusty, squeaking hinges. Trying to calm her racing heart, she watched as a dark complected, black-haired man approached and squatted down in front of her.

Molly met his eyes steadily and silently. He laughed sending putrid breath toward her. Using all of her will power, she kept herself unmoving, unyielding to his eyes.

"You are quite a prize, aren't you, woman? You will fetch a great price in the market."

One finger lightly touched the side of her face then slid down to her chin. "You handle yourself well. That is a bonus, too. You are one who will require a careful watch until we reach our destination."

He looked at his captive as if he was expecting a response of some sort, but Molly refused to give in, maintaining this calm, controlled, silent demeanor. Something in his black eyes shifted slightly and she thought she might detect a hint of respect in them.

Well, regardless of her situation, she  _would_  remain in control.

The man looked a little disappointed that she asked no questions, made no comment, just maintained the laser-lock on his eyes. He was finding that stare to be a little discomfitting and he found himself turning his own gaze away.

"Our boat leaves in two days. Until then, you will remain here. There is no one around to hear if you call for help – but I don't see you as one who begs for help. Am I right?"

Silence.

The man grunted and stood, looking down at her for a moment, then retraced his steps and left, apparently locking the old door from the outside.

Molly sighed and closed her eyes. She'd give about most anything for some aspirin or something that drive the pain away. She felt nauseous and hoped so much that she wouldn't throw up on herself. She couldn't move enough to avoid it if it overpowered her will.

' _Jethro_ _ _,__ _ _please find me!'__  Her phone was the first item to be taken from her. Her badge and weapon followed quickly; she had no idea where they were now.

She wondered what time it was. Had they found the Jeep yet? Is Roger alright? She leaned her head back on the pipe and closed her eyes, visualizing what her team would be doing. Balboa was probably helping them. Is there any way she can let anyone know where she is?

She tried working whatever they had tied her with, attempting to get her hands loose. It wasn't rope. Felt more like cloth. Silk? Who would use silk for this?

Focusing entirely on freeing her hands, she forgot everything except getting free. Her arms were tired and aching but she continued. It felt as if something was giving a little. Encouraged she kept repeating what she had been doing but the skin of her wrists soon felt raw and burned like fury.

Molly finally had to stop and rest a while. She found that she could block out the pain and actually dozed a little. A short time later she awoke with a start and began working on freeing herself again.

Hearing noise at the door, she kept still and quiet.

A different man came in this time. He stood looking down at her with a hideous grin on his face. With a heavy accent, he asked, "How are you called, woman? Your name."

"Molly."

He tried pronouncing her name several times, rolling it off his tongue. "It is different. Odd."

Molly maintained her silence, her eyes looking straight ahead.

The man laughed. "I heard it that you are quiet." He laughed some more. "There will be times when you will not be so quiet."

Molly refused to ask or react in any way. The man finally shook his head with a chuckle and left.

Molly let out a big breath, wondering what he meant by that last statement? Keeping her calm, she closed her eyes and pictured a man with silver hair. He had kept her safe and he would find her. She couldn't imagine how but she knew he would. She'd never give up on that thought. She only had to survive until then.

Time lost all meaning in the dark, dank, smelly place. The two men entered the room, speaking to each other in a strange language she couldn't place. One reached in his pocket and pulled out a revolver but held it loosely at his side. The second man cut whatever had been holding her and told her, "Stand. We leave now. Make no trouble or you'll pay for it in ways you cannot even imagine."

Her face immobile, Molly tried to get to her feet but having been trapped in that one position for two days and nights, she wasn't able to do it.

The second man reached down, grabbed her upper arm and yanked her upward. Her muscles, suddenly called upon to function, seemed confused. Finally, both men held her arms and pulled her along with them. She tried her best to make her legs and feet obey her commands, but they refused.

She looked around as much as possible but could see nothing exceptional as a landmark around this place. She was correct in that the place where she had been held captive was an old abandoned fish house. The docks and work areas were falling down, many parts of both were missing.

She was forced into the panel van again, then the rear door was slammed shut and locked. No windows, no way to gauge where they were taking her. Her captor had said 'our boat' so obviously it had to be near coastal water but it could be anywhere.

She wanted to go home. She wanted a long hot shower and her soft bed. She wanted Je - - she stopped there.

* * *

DiNozzo and McGee, along with Fornell and the FBI, had a massive manhunt in operation looking for Molly and the two vehicles witnesses had described. There had been so many leads and reports of sightings to check out, it felt as if they were just spinning their wheels, but nobody was giving up, nobody was slowing down.

Volunteers from all agencies reported for assignment. Every abandoned or vacant structure was searched thoroughly. State Troopers in surrounding states, set up checkpoints everywhere. White panel vans were stopped and searched, but none of them were the one they were looking for.

Gibbs, breaking from the shock that had initially gripped him, was now in full warrior mode. Nothing was too far, nothing was too hard, nothing was overlooked, but nothing was found. Using massive willpower, he kept himself reined in tightly, maintaining control. He was unchangeably focused, letting nothing distract him.

As he stared at a large map on the wall, his eyes kept turning toward the coastline. He called DiNozzo. "A water front. That's where they'll take her. Look for some kind of boat they'll take her away in."

"Boss, how do you know that?"

"My gut."

DiNozzo relayed Gibbs' belief to Fornell, who just looked perplexed for a moment, then said, "Well, let's start checking out waterfronts. We sure haven't had any luck anywhere else."

Repositioning all the various teams and assigning them new areas took a little time, but the coastline was now being scoured.

Several days later, an excited call came in that the place she had been held had been found. A new silk scarf had been cut and left where it had dropped by an old pipe. McGee, turning a strong flashlight on the wall just behind and to one side of the pipe noticed something scratched onto the wall. Balboa came over with his light and they both studied the scratching. Then McGee saw it. "Mol" it read. She was trying to scratch her name onto the wall but had been interrupted.

Tire tracks in the area were examined and casts were made of them. It was possible that Abby could match these with ones found around the Jeep.

* * *

Molly had lost track of time in the back of that dark, windowless van. She had only the hard metal floor on which to sit and every bump in the road jarred every bone.

Eventually the van stopped and she heard men's voices in that strange language. Then the back doors were unlocked and opened. One of her captors tossed a small bottle of water toward her, then shut the door again.

Terribly dehydrated, Molly eagerly drained the entire bottle and wished she had another. Then her head began to feel woozy and things around her went in and out of focus. Her arms felt so weak and tired she couldn't even lift them. She fell onto her side. The powerful drug in the water transported her into complete unconsciousness and would keep her there for a long time.

When the men again opened the rear double doors, one climbed inside and dragged her to the door, then the two carried her into a small building close to a dock in the port of Baltimore, Maryland, depositing her on the dirty floor, then left and locked up. One more move onto the ship itself and they could take a deep breath. Their boss was waiting for them far away, but the hard part was now done.

A short time later a large container ship pulled into the busy shipyard as enormous cranes lifted containers off then reloaded the ship with new ones. In the midst of all this activity, the two men encased their prisoner in a rolled up rug and carried her aboard.

The aging, black-eyed captain noticed it but turned his attention elsewhere. There were things he was not supposed to meddle in, even if he was the captain. In a small cabin down the the bowels of the ship, the pair unrolled the carpet leaving the prisoner sprawled on the hard metal floor. They did leave the rug; she could use it for comfort or not. Their job was to capture and transport the prisoner with as little damage to her being as possible. Battered or injured women didn't bring as good a price as an unblemished one, especially if it was a pleasure just to look at her.

When she finally regained consciousness, she again had a raging headache so she stayed as still as possible until it abated hours later. The small cabin had a narrow bunk, a small metal table that was bolted to the floor, a small bathroom with a shower and a toilet.

It was a relief to know that she could at least clean herself up and could sleep in a bed. It may not be the freshest or cleanest bed but it was a bed and she'd take what she could get. Other than when they brought a bit of food and water to her now and then, she saw no one. One of the men told her that she would be in this cabin until they arrived at their destination a couple of weeks from now.

The long hours of boredom were excruciatingly hard to get through. She felt fear as she wondered where she was destined to arrive and what would happen afterward, though she worked hard to keep it under control and not lose focus of her primary goal which was to simply survive until Gibbs came.

The ride seemed to be rather stable, for which she was thankful, because the open seas could be difficult and most unpleasant.

Molly continually visualized her team and Fornell searching for her, but her heart sank to its lowest point, knowing that she would probably never see them again. This wasn't the way she had envisioned her life to be, but couldn't do anything to stop it from happening.

* * *

Every available agent from every agency in Washington had been assigned to take part in the search for the abducted NCIS agent, as well as all state and local LEOs in several surrounding states.

Gibbs sat in MTAC absently working his fingers in the soft fur of the shepherd who sat beside him. The shepherd spent his time at home pacing and whining. At the office he was quieter but no less distraught. His beloved mistress was missing and he felt he had to go find her. Gibbs knew that at the first opportunity, the beautiful shepherd would probably bolt and spend the rest of his life looking for her. The SFA shared the same sentiment so they were extremely careful to prevent that from happening.

Other than the few things in and around the Jeep, they had nothing. Abby had searched the Jeep carefully and found no fingerprints that couldn't be accounted for. It was fairly safe to assume that the kidnappers had worn gloves of some sort.

The prints were found on several of the horrid objects sent in the gift package to Molly, but there were no matches to any data base that existed.

No stone was left unturned. The team leaders and the Directors of the various agencies looked at each other, embarrassed that their best efforts had failed to find the missing agent.

Gibbs, DiNozzo and McGee sat at their desks scouring ships' departure times and from which port. Focusing just on the Port of Baltimore, it still seemed an impossible task. How would they be able to search these enormous ships, anyway? There simply wasn't enough manpower for an operation of that size and scope.

Gibbs kept staring at the list of ship names on a list in his hand. These ships had come into Baltimore just long enough for their massive loads of cargo containers to be exchanged for another load, then they were right back out.

There were probably two dozen ships that had come and gone during the time frame they had established after Molly's kidnapping.  _ _The Sea Witch. Star of Arabia. Sun Dancer. MoriTaka. Angel of the Sea. Poseidon's Daughter.__  And on and on and on. Most would be in or near the Middle East.

He threw the papers down on his desk and rested his forehead on his knuckles with a distressed sigh. He honestly didn't know what else to do, but he knew she had to be on one of those ships.

He got up and left the building, walking to the stand where he could get his favorite coffee. As he walked, his mind was filled with scenes of Molly and Roger playing in the sun, her hair shining, laughter on her face. He got his coffee and remembered how she always teased him about it. Walking back to the office, he looked at the one MCRT parking space that was empty.

He gave his two agents the coffee he had gotten for them, then went upstairs to Morrow's office. The Director was on the phone but gestured for the senior agent to have a seat until the call was finished.

"How are you doing, Gibbs?"

Gibbs glanced down at the floor for a moment, then looked the Director straight in the eye, saying, "Tom, I need to go to Saudi Arabia. Somehow, everything always goes back there. That's the only hope we have of finding her."

Morrow nodded, saying dryly, "I wondered how long it would take you to make that request. It  _ _was__  a request, wasn't it?"

Gibbs' mouth twitched as Morrow muttered dryly, "Sometimes it's a little difficult to tell which of us is actually the head of this outfit."

"As for the purpose of your visit, I've been discussing that option with SecNav, DHS, CIA and others. Some agree that it is a viable action, others disagree. I also agree with you that all options in the US go nowhere. And I want my agent back. How's Roger coping with this?"

"Distraught. Pacing, whining, aching inside wanting her back. Looking at me like I have all the answers. Begging me to bring her back. Do I have permission to go to Saudi Arabia, Tom?"

Director Morrow gave his senior agent a long, long look. "Gibbs, I know that it is the logical thing to do. However, I feel very uneasy about it. It is a deceitful, dangerous place. People there smile at your face as they are stabbing you in the back. Not one of them can be trusted."

He continued, "Let me ask you this. If you were there, how would you go about looking for her?"

"I won't know that until I get there and find out exactly what the situation is. Money talks over there just as it does everywhere."

"Who would you take with you – as if I don't know?"

Gibbs nodded. "DiNozzo and McGee. I'd also like for you to consider Balboa, too. He's a good man to have on your side."

Morrow nodded. "Let me think about this, Gibbs. I'll get back to you."

Gibbs nodded and got to his feet. "Just don't take too long, Tom. The longer the delay, the longer she is at the mercy of merciless people."

Gibbs left leaving an unsettled Director behind him.

Back at his desk, Gibbs glanced at some of the papers scattered on his ordinarily neat desk but knew it would be useless to stare at them any more.

He went downstairs to Abby's lab, bracing himself for the onslaught of what she called music and one of her enthusiastic hugs.

Abby stood in front of Major Mass Spec doing stationary dance steps while she worked. Gibbs found her remote and killed the racket she loved to hear.

She spun around ready to blast somebody then burst into a wide, sunny smile as she saw who it was. "Gibbs! What's up?"

"Don't know, Abby. You got anything helpful?"

Her face showing her regret, her voice was subdued as she answered, "I'm sorry, Gibbs. I've searched really hard but have come up with nothing. I've sent some of the prints I got from those so-called "toys" to Interpol and other international agencies. I hope one of them will give us a lead."

Gibbs sighed and planted a kiss on the side of her face then left, leaving the forensic scientist beaming.

Back in the bullpen, Gibbs got Balboa's attention and motioned with a slight tilt of his head for him to join him in a relatively private place to talk in the alcove beneath the stairs. "Hey, Gibbs. Whatcha need?"

"Rocky, how would your feel about a trip to the Middle East?"

"By  _ _myself,__  Gibbs? Noooo. I don't think so, brother!"

"No. With me and my team."

The agent paused and thought, then smiled. "Why not? I hear it's great over there this time of year. Nice and hot! Sunny. Got lotsa sand."

Gibbs briefly put a hand on the shoulder of the leader of MCRT Team Two, saying, "Clear your desk, give orders to your team and come over here."

"Gotcha. Be right there."

The four agents spoke in low voices as they discussed the possible trip. Gibbs said that going in with four gave him the option of being able to have two teams of two, which would be safer for all of them. They covered the logistics, basic plans, etc. and each was eager to get underway immediately, but in the meantime, they had to wait for the phone to ring.

* * *

~ Continued ~

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Carolina Connection Series: Book 1, Part 1: BEGINNINGS  
> The Carolina Connection Series: Book 1, part 2: VENDETTA
> 
> (Kidnapping involved so it that offends you, please be warned.)

* * *

 

Molly felt that the days on this smelly ship would never end, though on the other hand, she didn't want to reach whatever the destination was either.

Left locked in the small cabin for several weeks, her thoughts had rarely left Roger. She was crushed inside by the thought of losing him, never seeing him again. She prayed earnestly for him, begging God to take care of him, wherever he might be.

Closing her eyes, she saw a tall, strong man with silver hair and mesmerizing blue eyes. She talked to him in her mind, telling him where she was over and over. Maybe there was some mystical way for him to hear her. Or it might just be hope that was so strong in her. But he  _would_  come; she just didn't know when.

She wanted to hear his voice again, to see that lopsided smile, to feel his arms around her making her feel so secure and comforted. Though he worked hard to see that no one would know, Jethro Gibbs had a soft heart that cared about people and he wanted to keep every one of them safe.

She thought of Tim and smiled. She really hoped he'd continue with his flying lessons and enjoyed Charlie. The vision of his gentle smile and soft eyes brought tears to her eyes. She'd really miss him.

Tony. Full of life with a zest for living, a bundle of energy, yet so battered inside. Molly had never met Tony's father and hoped she never would because, with considerable pleasure, she'd take him apart piece by piece.

She thought of her cabin, recalling every square inch of it in her mind. The faces of her loving grandparents, the old photos. She wondered what would become of the land. She'd kept the taxes paid but if she didn't return...

No. She wouldn't even allow that thought in her mind. He would come.

Then came the day when one of her captors unlocked the door, brought food and water, told her to wash herself carefully and be ready to go ashore in an hour.

Molly felt a moment of terror stab her with the intensity of a lightning bolt, but took control of herself. ' _ _All I have to do is stay alive until he gets here. Just survive. Stay alive.'__  She would repeat that to herself constantly in the coming days and weeks.

' _ _Just stay alive.'  
__

When the men came for her, her hands were again tied with silk (to prevent marks one man said) and was taken from the ship, a man on either side of her with a tight grip on her upper arms. The dock of the King Abdulaziz Seaport at Dammam, Saudi Arabia, was busy with many, many workmen about but no one gave her more than a quick glance, if that, that she could see.

* * *

Standing at the foot of the steps was the man who had tormented her life for so long. Carlos Alvada. A pleased, smug smile distorted his fat face as his eyes poured out palpable hatred.

Standing in front of him, he removed a smelly cigar from his mouth. "Well. If it isn't the former special agent MacKenzie. I've waited a very long time for this moment. A very long time."

Seeing no fear in her eyes, Alvada's anger began to rise. He wanted her to quake with fear of him, to be terrified at the very mention of his name. With a snarl, the back of one pudgy hand smashed across her face, releasing a stream of blood from her nose, as cuts in her mouth added their contributions to the flood of red.

The men who had brought her here were frankly stunned. They had been sternly been warned, even threatened, about delivering her unblemished and they had.

Molly spat blood from her mouth straight out, leaving a red splotch on his pristine expensive suit. His eyes narrowed even more as his face turned a deeper red but was surprised to see an equal amount of anger and hate staring back at him in total defiance.

There were many people around the extremely busy port but no one appeared to be paying attention to the silent drama taking place on the quay. Alvada jerked his head toward a dark green BMW sitting nearby and her captors opened a back door and all but threw her inside. Alvada took the wheel as the other two got into the car and the dock was quickly left behind.

Alvada stopped before a small Middle Eastern-style compound in Dammam and indicated that she was to be brought inside.

Molly would never let any of them even suspect it, but she was terrified, having no idea what awaited her now. Whatever it might be, she would survive.

* * *

Gibbs was about at the limit of what he could endure from these so-called intelligence experts from the CIA. Either they knew something or they didn't. Why all the waffling? Using smoke and mirrors to keep their jobs?

David Enders, the chief of the Middle Eastern Intelligence Division, saw the look on the agent's face and understood the reason why.

"Agent Gibbs, I know you want concrete answers to all your questions, but we're simply unable to do that. I can tell you what our best estimates are, what we believe to be factual, but in so many cases involving foreign lands, we simply don't have the "boots on the ground" that it takes to have those kinds of answers."

Gibbs sighed and nodded, not that he was any happier.

Enders continued, "We were able to track your agent as far as the arrival dock in Dammam, Saudi Arabia. We believe the man who met the ship was Carlos Alvada but we don't have a positive ID on him yet. That man, the two who took her off the ship and your agent left in a dark green car but we lost them after that point."

* * *

Over the next few days, HR received separate requests from Agents Gibbs, Balboa, DiNozzo and McGee for two weeks of either vacation time or accrued paid days off. Each was granted. Some might have found it of interest that all four agents had requested the exact same dates off, but no one noticed until Director Morrow received the department's summary report of activity.

At the end of the regular morning meeting between Supervisory Senior Agent Gibbs and the Director, the Director commented casually, "Hear you and several others are taking a few days off."

"Mmph."

"Anything you want to tell me?"

A slight shake of his silver head, Gibbs answered mildly, "Nope."

The Director couldn't quite hide a smile. The wily agent was giving him plausible deniability. He just looked at the man for a moment before he said quietly. "Be careful over there, Gibbs. Don't know exactly how much help I can be to you if anything goes south."

Gibbs just nodded and stood to leave. Morrow stood and held out his hand. As Gibbs accepted his hand, Morrow told him softly, "Bring her back, Gunny."

"Bet on it."

* * *

Two days later, four of the agency's top agents began simultaneous vacations, but nobody seemed to know where they went. Someone said he had heard John Balboa mention that he was going hunting.

Using some of the resources at their disposal, the four agents had quietly gotten themselves added to the passenger manifest of a huge C17 Globemaster out of Andrews AFB going nonstop to Riyadh, Saudi Arabia. From there, they'd make their way to the port city of Dammam.

Gibbs and his team, each carrying equal amounts of money signed out from the agency's contingency fund had a  _lot_ of bargaining power. They just had to use it very carefully.

While enroute on the long, long boring flight, a young marine had sat next to Gibbs for a time when his puppy-like curiosity got the best of him. These four men wore civilian clothing but carried an awesome array of firepower. The four had stayed together, speaking to no one else.

The marine, with a friendly boyish personality, asked Gibbs which service he was with.

"NCIS."

"You normally come out here?"

"Only when we have to."

The conversation wound up with the marine returning to the group further up front with which he was traveling telling some of his buddies about the NCIS guys in the back, loaded for some serious action somewhere. Overheard, by his sergeant, the sergeant soon afterward moseyed back and settled into the empty seat beside Gibbs.

After a few minutes, the sergeant said, "Name's Collette. Hear ya got a mission ahead of ya."

Gibbs' piercing blue eyes met the gray eyes of Sgt. Collette. "Yeah."

"Need a hand with anything?"

"Don't know. Don't know what's ahead for us."

Collette frowned but waited for more info that wasn't forthcoming. "Got a bunch of marines I'm babysittin' up there but I been around a long time; got some contacts. Need anything, let me know. I'll see what I can do."

Gibbs considered it. The military is a close community. There's always somebody who knows somebody and that's a good thing to have. A GI never forgot his buddies and would bend over backwards to help the buddy of a buddy.

"Missing female agent. Kidnapped in DC, traced to the port at Dammam. That's all I know."

The sergeant nodded as he thought a minute. "Be back."

After a while, the sergeant quietly slid into the seat and asked, "Need transport?"

"It'd help."

"Okay. I got a buddy in the motor pool in Riyadh. I can getcha a beefed up Hummer, surpasses all military specs, if you want it. Can turn it in either at the base in Riyadh or one in Kuwait. Either will do."

Gibbs looked at him seriously. "'Preciate it, Sarge. It'll help a lot. US markings?"

The sergeant grinned. "That's the beauty of it. Ain't marked. Just a plain desert-tan Hummer."

Gibbs slowly grinned and held out his hand.

* * *

Inside the compound, the courtyard was plain hard dirt, though a few sprigs of die-hard grass survived here and there. The car had been driven into what served as a garage beside a typical Middle Eastern adobe mud-type flat-roofed home. There were even steps on the outside wall that led up to the roof where an assortment of lounge chairs and the like could be seen.

Pushed through the door of the house, Molly noted that the first room was fairly sizeable, furnished with carpets for flooring, low tables, an abundance of pillows used to sitting and several comfortable-looking western-style chairs at the far end.

There were five or six other rooms with closed doors, but toward the back of the dwelling was a kitchen. She saw no one else but it was possible that others were here, as well.

She was put into a room that was roughly ten by ten feet, furnished only with an eastern-type bed that consisted of a stack of rugs and blanket-like things. A small, crude low table was the only other furnishing. A single open window high above the floor was the only light source.

With a sigh, Molly checked out the bedding. It seemed reasonably fresh which was a relief. She sat cross-legged on the soft stack and leaned back against the rough light tan wall.

Now what?

Her stomach growled and she could really use some water of the non-drugged variety, but there's no way she'd ask for either.

Thinking back to seeing Alvada at the dock, he wasn't nearly as tall as she had thought. And he appeared a lot heavier. Somehow she had to figure out a way to kill him before he killed her. She wasn't going down without a helluva fight.

Her nose and face really hurt and the inside of her cheek on that side felt like raw hamburger. Looking down at her dirty blood-stained clothing, she wished she could have a hot shower, a shampoo and clean clothes.

' _Survive. Just survive.'_

The rough wooden door to the room was suddenly thrown open with a bang, startling Molly out of her reverie. One of the captors motioned for her to come with him. She slowly rose and approached him. He pointed to the kitchen, saying, "Food."

A little confused, she went to the room and saw what she assumed were the ingredients for a meal, but she recognized little of it. There was an ancient battered refrigerator on another wall. Opening the door, she saw several types of cheese, some eggs, and several gallon jugs of water.

The man had left her here alone, so she assumed she was to make what she wanted. There wasn't a stove, but a raised hearth was apparently used instead. Molly opened cabinets and found a small dented pan, things that could be used as utensils, and some matches.

There was a large shallow basket on the floor that held a supply of dried dung which nearly made Molly change her mind about eating. Resolutely placing some on the hearth, she got it burning and soon had a good meal of scrambled eggs with some cheese and several glasses of water.

There was a sink but she couldn't find soap so she washed the things she had used as best she could and sat them on the counter to dry. Taking advantage of the water, she cleaned her face and neck, arms and hands. The combination of food, water, and being able to clean up even a little felt good.

It was silent in the house, so Molly decided she check around and see if she could find anything that would serve as a weapon.

The only thing she found in the kitchen was an old carving knife that had a wobbly, loose handle. It wouldn't help to have the thing come apart in the middle of a fight to the death. She left it where it was for now.

Carefully opening doors to other rooms, most were about like the room she had been put in. The realization hit her that this is a place where women were held before being sent elsewhere, sold or something.

The satisfying feeling that had briefly been in her stomach after her meal now felt as if it had turned into a large lump of ice. How many women had spent time in this place? She was just another nameless face in the long line that had been here before her.

Her chin came up, determined that she would not accept the same fate. Somehow she would escape. ' _Just survive.'_

* * *

In the front living area, Molly noticed a small table in one corner that had a drawer. Looking out the windows, she crossed the room, opened the drawer and gasped.

She couldn't believe it. At the very back of the drawer lay a Ruger 9mm handgun. Glancing out the windows again, she picked up the Ruger and checked it. Loaded. Fifteen rounds. Actually it was a nice weapon. She just couldn't believe that they had been so careless as to leave it here – but very, very thankful.

Untucking her blouse, she slipped the Ruger under her belt in the back. She just couldn't let them find it. She'd likely be killed on the spot.

Then she heard the sound of a car's tires on the hard dirt. They were back! She quickly sat in one of the chairs and folded her hands in her lap, locking in a composed expression on her face.

Alvada entered the room, smiling smugly when he saw her. "So, Special Agent MacKenzie" he snarled derisively. "Time to begin your new life! I'm sure you will find it – interesting, perhaps. It  _will_ be different, I assure you!"

Throwing a black garment at her, he ordered her, "Return to your room, remove your foul clothing and wear this."

A burqa. ' _This may actually make things easier for me, even if it is just plain ugly!'_  Molly rose, her eyes never leaving the fat man as she returned to the room she had been thrown into.

Alvada said nothing more but that evil grin on his face never wavered as he watched her.

In the room, Molly decided that she wasn't about to remove her clothing. The burqa would hide everything except her eyes. The only problem was that she couldn't get to the Ruger without pulling up the long black garment. She'd just have to play it by ear.

When she returned to the living area, Alvada was on his cellphone. Since he wasn't paying attention to her at the moment, she eased the back of the burqa up and removed the Ruger from its hiding place. It was hidden in her hand by the folds of the garment.

The moment that Alvada ended his call, he turned to her only to be staring down the barrel of a gun. He gasped. Where had she gotten it? These fools who guard the women here must have left it somewhere.

"What will you do? Do you have the courage to pull the trigger? I don't think so. You are only a weak woman."

The shock must have clouded Alvada's mind. As a federal agent, she was quite accustomed to using a firearm.

"So weak, I helped destroy your empire? Ha. You're a pile of shit, ya know that, Alvada?" She couldn't help but taunt him.

She smiled with a small chuckle, her voice deadly low and quiet. "I swore that I'd kill you. That's the only way I'll have peace in my life. So, yeah, you bet I'll do it, Fatso."

Alvada wasn't that far from her so when he launched himself at her, she fired five rapid shots at him before his body knocked her down.

Molly shoved the heavy man off to the side and looked into the expressionless eyes that stared into eternity. ' _Hope ya weren't countin' on goin' to heaven, you bastard!'_

Molly had no remorse whatsoever. He was evil through and through and she refused to allow him to carry out whatever evilness he had planned for her.

She sat where she was for a moment. Alvada was dead. Alvada was actually dead. He could never hurt her again.

Going to the kitchen, she managed to rinse out the blood on the burqa that had spilled from his wounds. Gibbs would have been proud of the tight grouping of the rounds that had hit him in the chest.

She stopped a moment to think. ' _I've gotta get out of here. But to where?'_ The American Embassy was in Riyadh, quite a distance away.

The car! Hastily rummaging through Alvada's pockets, she found the keys to the BMW and hurried to the garage only to stop short.

Staring at her with an ugly grin was one of the two men who had kidnapped her.

"Where you think you go, woman? No place here for you to run to. Now you belong to me!"

Molly stood unmoving. Thankfully she had returned the Ruger to her belt. Maybe he wouldn't search her.

He gestured for her to return to the house. Entering the door, the man glanced at Alvada's body on the floor.

"You do great service for Jasim, woman. It was time for him to face the wrath of Allah. Where is gun?"

Molly sighed. Facing a weapon pointed at her prevented her from making an attack because there wouldn't be time to get the Ruger out.

"In my belt. Why?"

Jasim laughed. "You are funny, woman! If you want to see tomorrow's sun, you will give it to me now – or you can face Allah with  _him_."

Slowly Molly raised the burqa to reach the Ruger. She held her face in an expression of sad resignation, of defeat. But as soon as the gun cleared the side of her body, she fired three shots in quick succession through the black material, catching Jasim off guard.

He fell heavily to the floor as blood began to pool around his body.

Molly stood still a moment looking at the two men on the floor. The rush of adrenalin from success to quick failure made its effect felt. She took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders as she tried to calm her pounding heart.

Careful to avoid their blood, Molly searched both of them, finding their weapons and currency plus Alvada's cellphone.

As she stood, a deep voice behind her said, "Very good, Molly. I must thank you for making my life so much easier. However, I must ask you to place the weapons on the floor. Such a beautiful woman should not play with them. Weapons, if you please?"

The second kidnapper.  _'God, please help me!'_  Placing the weapons on one of the cushions, she sighed and turned back to him.

"The other one, too, Molly. I have no desire to meet Allah just yet."

So he knew about the Ruger.  _'Blast!'_  The third weapon joined the other two. Had he been watching all this? Had he left the Ruger for her to find?

"Now. We have an appointment but first you must change." Handing her a package, he said, "Clean clothing. Do it now then replace the burqa on yourself. Hurry; we must not be late."

He had to have set this up, knowing pretty well how it would play out. With both of his hindrances out of the way, he would have all the money for himself.

Molly again went to the small room. She looked at the small window with regret. Previously she had tried to get up to it without success. She removed the burqa then opened the package to see the clothing she was to wear.

Oh, no! It was a sleazy-looking, skimpy outfit of some sort. Frowning, she turned to the door and called down the hall, "This clothin' is not appropriate. I cannot wear it."

The man sauntered down the hall to the doorway and said, "You  _will_  wear it and it is quite appropriate for what awaits you. Dress yourself or I will do it!" He stood close, towering above her, his dark eyes not moving from her face.

She'd never show it but Molly was scared. She had literally fought to free herself but she had failed. Very softly she told him, "I'll do it."

The man whose name she had never known stood where he was for a moment. She returned his stare until he chuckled and slowly walked back to the living area.

Reluctantly removing her jeans and once-blue shirt, Molly picked up the outfit again then realized that her underwear would be visible. She closed her eyes, fighting tears, sending up another prayer, a plea for help.

"We must not be late! You have only minutes before I come and dress you myself!" he called down the hall.

Her heart pounding, Molly slowly removed her bra and panties, then, with shaking hands, began putting the filmy garment on. Her breasts were easily visible through the several layers of soft material that ended in a band just beneath them.

Only a scrap of more opaque material like a mini-thong covered her lower part. The gold band that supported the lower half rode quite low on her hips, her legs visible through layers of the filmy material that flowed down to her ankles. But all of the rest of her body was uncovered. She picked up the burqa and pulled it over this degrading thing, then walked out.

Seeing her in the burqa, the man laughed. "Shy, are you? You will be over that soon enough. Come, we must leave!"

He gestured for her to get into the back seat of the BMW, then he got behind the wheel, locked the doors and backed out into the street. It was strange to see people going about their ordinary daily business all around her when her own world had become an unreal nightmare.

The kidnapper drove for a while before parking in the driveway to a rather ordinary-looking house. Gesturing for her to get out, he kept a strong hand on her arm as they approached the door. A servant answered the bell and bowed him in. The woman, wearing full white robes with only her hair covered, quickly looked into Molly's eyes for only a second before directing the man to a large room to the right of the door, respectfully keeping her eyes on the floor.

The kidnapper was warmly greeted by another man and the two spoke in their native language for several minutes as Molly took the measure of the new man. He had a heavy, very unpleasant face and his black eyes looked out at the world with a hard, closed expression that would permit no one to know his thoughts. His black beard wasn't that long but it appeared unkempt.

Her examination was interrupted when the kidnapper turned to her, ordering her, "Come!" Molly stepped a little closer.

The two men talked another moment before the new man moved to her and jerked the burqa off, throwing it to the side. Hands on his hips, he gazed intently at every inch of her, front and back, then looked at the kidnapper and nodded.

Molly couldn't swallow. Horrified, she watched the man count out a large stack of currency into the hands of the kidnapper who turned and left without even a glance at her.

Molly stood staring hard into the inhuman eyes of her new owner. She instantly understood that she should expect no mercy from this man. He didn't have a soul.

' _Just survive. Survive and live,'_  she reminded herself.

* * *

Molly was directed to a small room very much like the one she had last occupied, except the window was at normal height, and the small narrow bed was western.

Before the man could close the door, Molly's chin rose as she pointed in the direction of the front room. "Burqa!" she demanded.

The man grinned, said something to the woman who had opened the door, then threw the ugly black garment to her, closing the door with a laugh.

Molly would never have believed that she would ever be thankful to have such a thing to wear but indeed she was at that moment.

Taking a close look at the window, she saw that it was nailed shut. Out the window was a tall wooden fence that prevented her from seeing anything else.

She sat in a rickety chair at a small table on which she propped her elbows, holding her chin in her hands. She'd simply have to wait for an opportunity to escape. She wondered if the servant would help her. Probably not. The man would kill her and she knew it.

Later, the man opened the door to allow the woman to carry a tray of food to the small table. The man spoke to the servant who then turned to her and asked, "He say what cause face hurt?"

Molly knew her face was swollen on one side and certainly bruised. "Alvada," she answered.

The man spoke angrily which the woman translated as best she could. "What woman do?"

"I lived - and he didn't like it."

Hearing the translation, the man simply stared at her for a moment, then spoke to the servant again. "Woman be here – uh – for face – be well."

Molly simply nodded with a sigh.

The door closed and the sound of a lock clicking was plain enough.

Molly looked over the food on the tray and tasted a few things but left most of it, but draining the water bottle dry.

Not long afterward the man returned with the servant who showed her the bathroom, indicating that she should take a shower. Molly wasn't going to argue with that! The servant brought a set of white robes identical to the ones she wore, saying, "Wear." Pointing to the horrid costume, the woman said, "Keep – not dirty."

Back in her room again, it was dark, so she stretched out on the bed, staring at the faint bit of light that came in through the window. Again, her mind was flooded with thoughts of Jethro and the team. Where were they? She knew with certainty that they would be looking for her. How could she leave clues for them to follow? So far, that answer had eluded her.

She prayed and closed her eyes. Then her eyes popped open. No one could identify her if they couldn't see her face. She had to ditch the burqa. Gritting her teeth, she realized what that meant but she'd have to do it. Maybe someone would notice and remember her face.

Days passed until the bruises faded and her unblemished appearance returned, then the man entered her room, opened the closet and picked up the same terrible outfit in which she had arrived and tossed it to her. No translation was needed.

She slowly removed the white robe and pulled on the hated light blue costume. Casting a last look at the burqa now crumpled on the floor, she raised her chin and walked out of the room.

_Survive._

* * *

This was a market place like all the others in the city with one exception. Off to one side was the place where women could be purchased on certain days. On those days there were many men standing around that area waiting for the sale to begin.

Most were simply observers, some were buyers. At times the auction-like sales would be quite lively as one bid against another.

The man who now owned Molly spoke quietly with the man who operated the business. His appraising eyes swept over Molly which made her want to throw up but neither her expression nor demeanor changed.

Molly stood beside her owner a bit off to one side as other women were led to a small raised stage and were either sold or returned to whoever currently owned her.

Then Molly's owner gave her a push toward the stage. Her mouth was so dry she couldn't even swallow. Inside she was trembling and scalding hot tears wanted to rush forward, but somehow she kept all that tamped down inside, refusing to give in or to show fear.  _Survive!_

Standing on the stage, on display to every eye was the most humiliating experience Molly had ever endured. The seller spoke loudly as he gestured to her, parts of her body that no one had any business emphasizing or bragging about.

There were responses from some of the men in front of the stage. The bid seemed to keep going and going. Some dropped out while others continued. Then, a richly dressed man walked into the crowd, barked a bid and the crowd went silent. His bid was not challenged, so the seller happily indicated that Molly now belonged to him. Apparently she had brought in a very large sum.

 _'I wonder how much I cost?'_ she wondered as depression suddenly attacked her. ' _When is this madness ever going to end?'_

The desire to fight for her freedom was suddenly weak. She was losing her battle to keep herself together until Jethro and her team arrived. _'They are coming, aren't they?'_  Realistically, how could she expect them to find her? It would be more difficult than finding the proverbial needle in a haystack.

She was barely aware that she had been removed from the stage and was now standing before a tall man whose robes bespoke of great wealth. Her new owner.

She slowly raised her head and looked him straight in the face. An average face that was not memorable. A very neatly trimmed beard and short hair. His eyes said nothing either good or bad. He paid the seller who would pay the man who had been her last owner.

Molly followed this newest owner to an expensive car, sat in the backseat with him as another younger man drove.

She nearly fell into despair. She had no idea where she was being taken but knew that she was going to be even farther away from her team.

' _Survive, Molly! You have to survive!'_

* * *

~ Continued ~

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Carolina Connection Series: Book 1, part 1: BEGINNINGS  
> The Carolina Connection Series: Book 1, part 2: VENDETTA
> 
> (Kidnapping involved, so be warned if that offends you.)

* * *

 

 

The Hummer the Marine sergeant had set up for them was perfect for their needs. Jerry cans of extra fuel were attached to both sides of it, a huge amount of bottled water was already stacked in the back along with rations, maps and brochures that might be handy, and four standard military-issue sleeping bags.

Gibbs and his team lightened the heavy loads of ammo they had stored in every pocket available into compartments in the Hummer. They were ready for the desert.

They made the long ride from the Saudi capital to the port city of Dammam without incident. They decided they'd park the Hummer behind a sand dune outside of the city and camp out overnight. They needed to rest while they had the chance.

The next morning they ventured into the sprawling, bustling city. Where to start?

In this hot, smelly place, it was difficult to get information. For strangers, especially white strangers, the only thing that got anyone's attention was money.

Day after day passed without making any headway. None of them would voice their misgivings, but all were getting discouraged. Molly may not even be in this place.

Gibbs called Director Morrow and asked him to extend their vacations. Two weeks wasn't going to be enough. However, the Director told him that after a conference with SecNav, this excursion was now an official mission and they were clear to stay as long as necessary to see it through.

Their vacation time had been returned to them and now they were actually being paid to be there with hazardous duty pay override. That was nice but they just wanted to get Molly back.

SecNav had also been in touch with the Director of the CIA who agreed to put one of their undercover agents in touch with them. The team had mixed feelings about CIA involvement, but they weren't making any progress on their own so they'd accept the man if he actually could assist.

Two days later, as they sat at a sidewalk table of a small bistro, a dark man in native clothing unexpectedly joined them at their table.

"Coffee is delicious here and it is always pleasant to share a cup with new friends. I am Qusay. I believe we have mutual acquaintances back home."

Gibbs' blue eyes locked onto the dark brown ones of the operative. "Gibbs. Got a name for us?"

"Quite possibly, my friend. The business you are interested in is acceptable in this country, though not highly regarded. I believe the man I am thinking of would have some information if the one you seek has been here. If you like, I will arrange a meeting with him."

"Do it."

"Very well. I will be back in touch with you as soon as he agrees to talk with you. Enjoy your coffee and this beautiful day."

As quickly as he came, Qusay stood and disappeared into the crowd.

It was the following day before the operative contacted them again. They finally had the name of a man who handled the majority of the sales of women in the kingdom.

* * *

DiNozzo and Balboa sat with him in a sidewalk cafe with untouched cups of coffee in front of them as they met with the man who could get them a lead to Molly's whereabouts.

"We're looking for a woman who was kidnapped in America. We have reliable information that she was brought here on a cargo ship and has been in the custody of two of your known associates. So. I'd just bet that you found another buyer for her. After all, you wanted money. Huh? How am I doing? Pretty good?"

Tony sat forward leaning close to the man's extraordinarily ugly face. "Where is she, Abaan? Who did you sell her to?"

Abaan kept his gaze steady, but the green eyes of the man across from him were very powerful. He was embarrassed that he was unable to meet the man's stare.

How had they gotten so much information about him? Especially his  _ _name__? No one knew his name - or so he had thought.

In a very, very heavy accent, the Arabian seller asked, "What is in this for me?"

Tony smiled a beaming, mega-watt smile and answered softly, "You get to live."

Abaan was taken back by this. This American was so confident, knew so much and undoubtedly knew more than he was telling. He felt the unfamiliar touch of fear's icy finger tickle his insides. But he still had to push back a little. He wasn't about to give up without getting American dollars in return.

Something that was probably intended to be a smile stretched across Abaan's awful visage. "Five million American dollars."

Tony chuckled and turned to Balboa. "Five million bucks. How expensive is the Boss' ammunition anyway?"

Playing his part, Balboa laughed right out loud then commented, "That M40 cost a bunch but nowhere near five million. One bullet? A dollar, maybe? Two? Not much more."

"Yeah, that's about what I thought. So, Abaan. Looks like it would cheaper for us to just take you out rather than pay what you want."

"But you will never know her location."

"We've got a pretty good idea where she is. We'd just like to get some confirmation." DiNozzo was working this piece of human scum well – even if he wasn't telling the truth.

Abaan had been been a hard negotiator all his life. He always got what he wanted. But these Americans! They must have people here on their payroll to know so much. But who? No one was close to him and he certainly didn't discuss his business with anyone. No one but he himself knew where the woman was now.

His lifeless black eyes narrowed. These two would die this day. The money he had gotten for the woman at the special market was far more than he expected but it would be nice to have a little more.

Then suddenly it dawned on him what the two Americans had said and realized that a sniper most likely had him in his sights this very moment, watching his every move. No business deal was worth his life. There would be other opportunities in the future.

He looked at this tall dark-haired man with the green eyes saying softly, "The palace of Prince Mahmud."

The slightly shorter American grinned at his partner. "He might have more sense than we thought."

The tall American nodded and smiled. "Good boy, Abaan! You might make it through this day yet!  _ _If__  we find this information is incorrect, you won't hear the shot before your head explodes." The friendly smile remained on his face as he leaned forward, arms folded on the table, green eyes boring into Abaan's black soul.

Abaan simply nodded and stood up from the table, looking at the two agents a moment, then shuffling off into the marketplace.

Tony and Balboa could barely contain their excitement, but all any observers would see was two tall men probably in town on business. Many such men came and went in connection with the ships that arrived and departed in a steady stream at the enormous port.

Tony's eyes turned toward a rooftop far, far from this little cafe and smiled. Message delivered.

* * *

Hours passed as the car traveled through the desert before they arrived at an enormous place that looked like it could be a sprawling luxury hotel. Green grass, flowers, carefully trimmed shrubs, tall stately palm trees, ponds with fountains spraying water gracefully upward certainly didn't look like desert. This had to be an oasis somewhere in the interior.

Stopping before an extravagant entryway, the rich man got out of the car, gesturing for Molly to do the same. The young man then drove the car away, supposedly to a garage area.

Molly swallowed and walked with head held high through the elaborate door and entered an enormous room that could have been a hotel lobby, richly furnished, tastefully decorated in silks and brocades that screamed 'expensive'. Large oil paintings hung on the walls. Statuary was perfectly placed with lush greenery that showed each work at its best.

She saw a robed man seated in a chair covered in gold silk who had stopped reading his paper when she entered and was staring at her.

The man who had directed her into the house said something to her, pushing her toward another doorway, through a maze of hallways until he stopped at a door and opened it. She was to enter.

As she looked at her surroundings, Molly was puzzled. This was a stately, richly furnished room of enormous size that had several doors leading to other rooms.

An older woman stood up from the chair in which she had been seated and bowed low to the man, who issued what sounded like instructions to her, then left, closing the door behind him.

Molly stood uncertainly with no idea what she was supposed to do.

"Hello, my young friend. I am called Aneesa, which means 'good friend'. It is my responsibility to teach you the things you must know in your new life here. I promise I will be a good friend to you. You and I will live here together. I hope I will become like a mother to you."

"You speak English."

"Yes, I was in America for a time where I studied in college. The prince is quite generous in providing education to all of us.

"The  _Prince?"_

"This is the palace of Crown Prince Mahmud of the Saudi Royal family. This is now your home."

Molly didn't really know what to make of all this. "I am Molly," she told Aneesa.

"Oh, no, my dear. You will have a new name from now on. Your old name was left behind with your previous life."

__"What?__  My name is Molly and Molly I will stay!"

Aneesa's eyes were wide. "Oh. Oh, no. I'm afraid that won't be allowed, my dear. The one to whom you belong gives you your name. And the prince is not a bad man. He allows many privileges that most do not. These are some of the many things I am to teach you. We must work hard because he as he is most eager to have you with him."

"What am I supposed to be? His wife?"

"He has many wives that were arranged by others to secure alliances and political bonds, some when he was but a babe. He chooses his personal companions very carefully and he spends his time with the only women he is allowed to chose for himself – you are one of the few. Most of the royal family have them by the dozens or more. He is also most generous with gifts and lovely presents. It is not so bad as you imagine."

"Aneesa, I was  _free!_  I was kidnapped and taken from all those I love, my home, my pet. There  _are_  no gifts that can make up for that. I have a question: how often do you go out?"

"Out?" Aneesa asked with puzzlement. "No. We stay here. This is your home. You will never leave the protective walls of this palace."

She was trapped.

* * *

Many weeks later, the time eventually arrived when Molly was summoned to meet the prince and have dinner with him.

A naturally modest person, Molly was again mortified to be wearing such revealing clothing as she was now. It mainly seemed to consist of that same filmy material that was worse than not being there at all. The material somehow made that which was supposed to be covered have more attention drawn to it.

Normally in the palace, Molly wore light-weight robes of any number of colors. They were quite comfortable and she didn't object to them at all.

For most of the previous weeks, Aneesa had instructed her on correct protocol, behavior and a myriad of little things she was supposed to remember when in the presence of the Royal Prince.

As a nervous Aneesa dressed her, she kept reminding Molly of this, of that, of something else until Molly told her, "Aneesa, you're makin' me nervous!"

Aneesa was a very kind woman, probably in her fifties, nearly forty of which had been in this one building complex. She had been brought here as a ten-year-old child by her parents but was educated abroad for a time by the Prince. He preferred for his 'house mothers', as he called them, to be well educated and worthy role models for the young women he would bring into his home.

Aneesa took her to the Jewel Room in a massive vault, where jewels of every kind, in every setting imaginable setting, were kept. The prince's companions, as he called them, were free to wear whatever they liked but it had to be returned; they were not gifts. Molly couldn't have cared less about wearing somebody else's jewelry. She was more concerned about being paraded around in this cheap-looking getup she was forced to wear.

When Aneesa explained that the prince had selected it himself, Molly retorted,"Then let him wear it!"

The color of the material was a pretty soft butter yellow that enhanced the appearance of her long silky dark hair. The costume was in two pieces, the lower part resting quite low on her hips only minimally covering what should be covered, the top part just barely covered a small portion of her breasts. Everything else was just volumes of that filmy stuff. The only part that was acceptable to Molly were the dainty gold slippers she wore.

In the Jewel Room, Aneesa took great care in studying the pieces she was selecting for Molly to wear. While Aneesa was looking through one of the many velvet cases, Molly spied a necklace that she was happy with: a single small diamond hanging from a dainty gold chain. That's all she'd accept and no amount of begging or pleading would change her mind. Aneesa perceived that her charge was on the verge of revolt, so she acquiesced to her wishes.

Nor would she wear the makeup Aneesa wanted to put on her face. If this guy wouldn't accept her the way she was, he could just get over it. She didn't want to be here in the first place and she had a few things she wanted to tell him, anyway.

The women returned to Molly's lavish private suite to do the finishing touches. Then suddenly there was a knock at the door. Ahmed was to escort her into the presence of the prince. His eyes checked her over, a little surprised at the lack of jewelry. Most women wanted to pile on as much as they could, which was really unattractive in his private opinion.

Ahmed was like the Chief of Staff of this entire mammoth palace, responsible for the smooth running of its every aspect.

He didn't miss the look that this young woman shot in his direction. Uh-oh. He really hoped there wouldn't be trouble tonight. The prince was a patient man, but tolerance would extend only so far. After all, she was just a woman.

* * *

Prince Mahmud was looking forward to meeting this new young woman at dinner tonight. She was a rather unexpected bonus. The one quick look he had gotten of her when she arrived had had him eagerly looking forward to this ever since. She was a stunning beauty. He didn't know what Ahmed had wound up paying for her but she was undoubtedly worth every riyal.

He had elected to have their first meeting and dinner in the more intimate setting of a private dining room in his large apartment of rooms. He enjoyed this room. It was lavish but of a more subdued nature. The appointments of the room were mostly in golds and creams with touches of rich green foliage of potted trees and other plants.

A fire was cheerfully crackling in a fireplace to keep the cool desert night air at bay.

Mahmud had also directed Ahmed to set a western style table and chairs for this first meeting. A table wasn't as intimate as a traditional low table where diners reclined or sat on soft pillows while eating. He'd like for his newest companion to be at ease as they began to get to know each other. American women were a prized catch because of their rarity.

When Ahmed entered and bowed low to him, Mahmud caught a glimpse of the stunning woman standing behind him and he nearly lost his breath. The color of the ensemble she wore couldn't be more beautiful on her and made her appear to have been destined to be in this particular room; it was the perfect setting for the jewel before him.

At the prince's nod, Ahmed brought Molly forward and introduced the prince to her without using a name for her because at this point, her owner had not yet named her.

Molly saw a fairly nice-looking man, just under six feet tall, in rich robes of the softest cloth made anywhere in the world. She was thankful that his eyes were focused mostly on her face instead of all the rest of her that was much too visible for her comfort.

His eyes had a bit more life in them than she had seen in those of his countrymen. He didn't wear a beard (for which she was thankful) and his hair was styled in a short cut as she was accustomed to back in the US.

The prince stood, took her hand and placed a gentle kiss on it. "Welcome, my beautiful jewel. I am Mahmud. As we get to know each other, I'll select the perfect name that will be yours alone."

Ahmed held her chair for her at her place across the smallish table from the prince. The table was set with magnificent tableware that probably cost the equivalent of the gross national income of some nations.

Ahmed softly directed servants who served the courses of food, some of which Molly couldn't even identify. She tasted different ones, ate what she liked, ignored what she didn't.

Mahmud kept a bit of pleasant chatter going to cover what would have been an awkward, silent meal. He had seen the look in her eye and didn't really expect her to speak much, if at all. But toward the end of the meal, he grew curious and commented on it, "You don't talk much, my precious jewel."

She shot him a dark look and responded in a quiet but fearless tone, "I don't think you'd like to hear anything I have to say to you."

Curiosity piqued even more, he told her, "Feel free to say anything you like."

His face was studied in silence before Molly spoke quietly but firmly, "I am an American. An American  _federal agent,_  by the way. I was kidnapped and traveled in some stinky old ship for a long time before I found myself here, bein' sold like some farm animal. I was taken away from everything that I hold dear. And I'll tell you this: I'm not stayin' here! At first opportunity, you can color me gone! And you needn't waste time decidin' on a name for me; I already have one. It's Molly.  _Special Agent_  Molly MacKenzie, NCIS."

"And here's another news flash for you: I know that my team is on the way so don't be surprised if several really  _pissed off_  federal agents come knockin' on your door. And ya better be especially careful around the silver-haired one. Just imagine an enraged grizzly with a really bad toothache and that would just scratch the surface."

"Heard enough or you want some more?"

The Prince looked startled. He had never encountered a woman like this Molly before. She certainly pulled no punches and he supposed that, under the circumstances, he would be quite displeased, as well.

Just as he was about to respond, Molly continued, "Oh, yeah. About these cheap floozie getups I'm supposed to wear. Even a hooker wouldn't be caught dead in one of these things! You think it's fun havin' to walk around in public wearin' something like this? I'm a better person than this makes me out to be and I don't appreciate bein' made out to be like some cheap waterfront whore. It's disrespectful! If you like it so much, you wear it!"

"I will wear my own clothes, thank you very much. And don't bother buyin' gifts or anything. I don't want 'em, don't need 'em so save yourself the time and effort. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm goin' back to my room and put on some clothes."

Mahmud's mouth was agape as she slid her chair back, tossed her napkin down and marched out of the room."

The prince sat in stunned silence for several moments, then a small smile broke through as he began to chuckle. Then it grew until it became a full-fledged belly-laugh that caused tears to stream down his face.  _What a_ _woman_ _!_  Fearless as a lioness – and probably just as dangerous. Oh, he could hardly wait!

He rang for Ahmed to bring a small demitasse of the strong Turkish coffee he enjoyed after a meal. Entering the room, Ahmed's mouth flew open when he saw the Prince seated alone. Oh, no. There would be trouble this night!

To his surprise, Mahmud kept chuckling quietly and was in extremely good humor. He stammered, "Y-Your Highness, shall I go - ?"

Mahmud waved a hand dismissively. "Have no concern, Ahmed. I have immensely enjoyed the most unusual dining companion I have ever had! Quite astonishing, actually!"

Not waiting around to look a gift horse in the mouth, Ahmed fled from the room though not venturing too far. Oh, what he wouldn't give to know what had happened!

Mahmud was accustomed to meeting frightened women, nervous women, even a very few bold ones, but all were very subservient, submissive.

This new woman was full of life, full of fire! He would take his time with her, enjoying all the new experiences she would bring to him. Her body was small but, from what he saw through the gossamer material, it was perfect.

Just sitting across the table from her was enough to make his blood begin to run hot. He would wait, because fruit was ripe to be picked only at one very special moment – and it would be all the more pleasurable to wait for that one moment in time. It would be hard to keep himself in check as he waited for that time to slowly pass.

Just on a whim, he decided that he would permit her to wear clothing she preferred, though he'd just as soon that she wear nothing at all. In time. This was going to be most enjoyable. In his mind he likened her to a fine Arabian thoroughbred, always to be handled with a hand that was gentle but firm at the same time. He wanted to tame her, not break her spirit. A skilled man could do that.

Later, seated at a desk in one of his large apartment rooms, Prince Mahmud wrote a short note, folded it, placed it in an envelope and sealed it with a bit of wax into which he pressed his ring. He rang for a servant and directed that this was to be delivered to the quarters of his new companion.

* * *

Aneesa was beside herself with worry when her charge returned to the suite so soon. "My dear, what happened? Was the Prince not pleased with you? Did you behave as I taught you? Oh, tell me, please! What happened?"

Molly plopped herself down in one of the rich brocade-covered chairs as a small smile crept across her face. Turning shining brown eyes to the kind woman, she finally just grinned. "He asked me if I had anything to say, said I could tell him anything I wanted, so I did. Then I left."

Aneesa's face turned pale as she muttered prayers or something under her breath and slowly shook her head.  _"Oh, young one!_  You have so much to learn. I take it that the Prince was quite angry with you?"

"I have no idea. I said what I wanted to say, then left. And, by the way, I want my clothes back. I'm not some cheap tramp to be paraded around like some strip-joint trollop."

Still hardly believing what she was hearing, Aneesa gasped. Normally, 'personal companions' took pride in showing off themselves, quite pleased when a male head turned to appreciate their beauty. Each companion wanted to be the prince's favorite and worked very hard to achieve that status. In these lands, her looks were the only currency a woman had.

When Mahmud's message was delivered along with a small box, Aneesa was torn between hope for forgiveness and fear of being punished for failing to perform her duty.

Now dressed in a deep blue robe, Molly took the envelope, tore it open and read:

_"My beautiful desert Lioness,_

I must thank you for being a most amazing dinner companion. I thoroughly enjoyed our first meeting.

Enclosed is a very small token of my great esteem for you and beg that you will do me the honor of accepting it.

_I think your name will be Nadirah which means 'rare and precious', for that's what you are.  
_

_We will soon share a lunch._

Mahmud"

Molly snorted to herself. All she wanted was O.U.T.

Aneesa nervously clasped the small velvet box in her hands then held it out to the young woman who just looked at it for a moment, then finally took it and opened it. Inside was a necklace - the small gold head of a lioness with tiny emerald eyes hung from a delicate gold chain.

She chuckled to herself. ' _Okay, Mahmud, you got the message. Now bring the car around; I'm going to the closest airport.'_

A short time later, Molly snuggled down into her soft bed as the evening replayed across her mind. She went to sleep as a soft smile played around her mouth.

For his part, Mahmud had trouble falling to sleep. He couldn't get his mind off his dinner companion. Such a brave and amazing woman. Then his thoughts replayed her words over and over.

There was much he hadn't been aware of. He had gotten word of a very special woman to be offered for sale on a certain day. He had instructed Ahmed to pay whatever was necessary for her.

He knew she was American but did not know that she was a federal agent. He would have to think about the implication of that.

It was fortunate that he had spent so much of his youth in English and American institutions of higher learning and spoke the language flawlessly. He wouldn't have wanted to miss this evening for all the jewels in his treasury.

Speaking of jewels, he had also noted that instead of weighing herself down with half the inventory in the vault, Nadirah wore only one small diamond. And she was unspeakably lovely.

* * *

The next morning, Mahmud sat in his office reading newspapers from around the world, sipping on a cup of strong coffee, when someone tapped on his door.

Who - ? A small head peeked around the door and Molly cleared her throat.

"Well, hello, Nadirah! Come in! I hope you had a good night. What brings you here?"

"My name is Molly and I want to use your phone."

"My phone?"

"Yes. That thing that you can talk to other people on? There is someone I want to talk to."

"And that would be?"

"Jethro Gibbs."

"Who is this Gibbs?"

"He's my boss and he's – well, it's complicated. I'll reverse charges so it won't be on your bill."

Mahmud burst out laughing. "My dear, you are the richest treasure on this planet!" His face sobered as he continued, "I thought about what you so charmingly said last night."

"Just let me use your phone for a few minutes."

Mahmud's face was actually sad. He said very softly, "I can't do that, my Nadirah. It would prove to be most awkward at best – and the relationship between our nations must be protected at all costs. It is a most complicated situation in these lands."

Molly considered his words, then said, "Let me get this straight. You know I was kidnapped. You paid actual money for me like buying another new chair or something. You hold me prisoner here against my will. You refuse to allow me to call my people. And you think you're protecting a national relationship of some sort? Then you're as crazy as a bedbug!"

Mahmud was upset. The fact that she had been held here for this length of time made her return to US authorities impossible. It could never be satisfactorily explained why she hadn't been immediately returned. He studied the beautiful but angry face in front of him. He would simply have to placate her until she bent to his will.

What he really wanted to do was to reach out and touch the curve of that lovely soft cheek. He wanted to taste those lips and lose himself in her kiss. Other things would come in time. This was the first time the Royal Prince had had such a challenge and he was eager to play the game – for he knew he would have the prize in the end.

Nadirah was his alone, the sweetest jewel of them all.

Molly returned to her suite, unhappy but no less determined. Somehow she would get her hands on a phone. One call is all it would take. Until then, she would simply survive. She knew Jethro would get here sooner or later – and this Mahmud guy had been warned.

_Survive._

* * *

The following week, Aneesa responded to a knock on the door, opening it to Ahmed who was overseeing the delivery of an extremely large quantity of clothing for Nadirah. Molly came out from her bedroom to see what was going on and was astonished to find an entire brand new wardrobe of western-style clothing. When the entire load had been delivered, Molly just stood in open-mouthed astonishment.

Mahmud's orders to his buyer had been to send an entire western wardrobe in a small size, describing Molly's proportions and coloration.

All of the pieces were very pretty, of the very highest quality and everything was in her size. How did he know that, she wondered? Obviously Mahmud didn't pick them out himself, but whoever his personal shopper was had excellent taste in clothing – style, fabric, color and panache. This stuff did not come from a Sears catalogue!

Molly's huge bedroom included an enormous, room-sized 'closet' so there was certainly more than enough room. Aneesa began sorting everything and putting the new clothing away. Soft sweaters and lacy things were folded and placed in built-in drawers in the closet; many pairs of shoes were put in their places. Casual clothes, dressy clothes including gowns that would make even the richest woman jealous, new underwear, silky soft gowns for sleeping. Molly could hardly believe all that she was seeing.

The underwear chosen would take some getting used to. She had always bought very simple, basic underwear – but this stuff! One glance at some of it told her she'd never wear it. In Molly's mind, underwear was to support and cover, but to show off one's assets like they were being served up on a platter? Don't think so! Absolutely nothing would be left to the imagination.

Mahmud certainly wasn't afraid to spend money; these were expensive clothes! She'd never had anything like these in her entire life. Of course, her life hadn't required a lot and she was quite content with that. She wasn't a person who had to have a lot of 'stuff'.

Aneesa was speechless to see all that the prince had ordered for her 'daughter'. She stared at Molly wide-eyed and in awe. Obviously Molly had a great deal of influence with Prince Mahmud and the woman was astonished.

To herself, Molly was wondering exactly how to handle this. Heck, all she wanted or needed were a couple of pairs of slacks or jeans, some shirts, regular underwear, a sleepshirt. A new pair of boots would have been nice.

But all this? In her regular life, this would be an entire lifetime supply of clothing. More, actually.

The following morning, a note was delivered to Molly's suite. Prince Mahmud requested her presence at lunch.

Molly sighed. She'd go but wasn't looking forward to it. She selected a pair of slim black jeans, a loose-fitting white silk croptop that stopped at her waist with a colorful scarf draped around the back of her neck so the ends simply hung loose in front. She decided that a pair of plain black flats would be sufficient.

Aneesa watched her charge dress and pull her luxurious dark hair back and up into a high ponytail and declared herself done. The woman didn't know what to say. She had never encountered this situation before.

Previously the prince was the one who decided what his companions would wear – but this girl seemed to have turned everything upside down, deciding much for herself. His Highness must be extremely taken with the small one; that was the only answer she could think of.

Ahmed escorted Molly to a cool terrace that overlooked a huge sparkling blue pool set off by beautifully landscaped lawn of emerald green grass, marble statuary precisely displayed with greenery and flowers with a backdrop of tall graceful palms.

A small table covered with white linen cloth was set with crystal goblets, beautiful silver service and translucent white bone china. In the table's center was an airy arrangement of blue and white flowers, captivating in their simplicity.

The entire setting looked as if it was the model for a magazine layout, giving the impression of a cool, refreshing ambiance in an relaxing atmosphere.

The prince entered, greeted her as he kissed her hand and complimented her on her appearance. Molly gave him a simple 'thank you' and thanked him for the clothing. "Quite unexpected," she said.

Mahmud smiled. "I am so pleased that you like everything. I want you to be happy here, Nadirah."

"If that's true, then you'll call me by my real name. And let me make a phone call."

Mahmud smiled again, choosing to ignore it but continued enjoying the unrelenting challenge she presented. "I hope you'll enjoy the lunch. I was in the mood for good seafood and had some delivered. Our chef is quite a master in it's preparation."

Molly snorted. Probably the only guy around who has his groceries delivered by helicopter!

Ahmed led a troop of servants in to serve the food. Quickly and efficiently, everything was placed on the table and both plates served, then they vanished.

The food really did look good and Molly found that she enjoyed the chef's efforts. She'd like to talk to him and find out how he made these dishes. The light sauce was perfect!

Mahmud was pleased that Molly seemed to like the fare and that she was more relaxed in her own style of clothing. He also noticed that her sense of confidence was not diminished. Even her demeanor was a challenge to him and he loved it. His hands could already feel her soft skin as they roamed over her exquisite body - though for now, they would have to be patient. Taming her was going to be wonderful! The final conquest would be something that mortal words could not describe.

After a light sherbert served at the end of the meal, Mahmud reached across the table and took Molly's hand. "My dear Nadirah, I do wish for us to become good friends. You bring much happiness to me and I wish to do the same for you."

Molly read the expression in the man's dark eyes and barely hid her fear of losing this battle. She knew sooner or later Gibbs would come and she hoped it was sooner. Until then, all she had to do was survive.

_'Jethro, please hurry!'_

* * *

~ Continued ~

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Carolina Connection Series: Book 1, part 1: BEGINNINGS  
> The Carolina Connection Series: Book 1, part 2: VENDETTA

* * *

 

Gibbs called Director Morrow asking for information on the prince's palace and what was known about him. The next day he had the coordinates for the GPS and what was known about Prince Mahmud. He was supposedly a more conservative member of the Royal Family, not very high on the political totem pole which seemingly didn't bother him at all.

He didn't care for all the political shenanigans, intrigue, and so on. That's one reason he selected this location for his palace; far away from everything.

It was reported that he was a highly educated man, having lived for a time in the US, England and other countries. Not believed to be part of any group, living as much as possible apart and independent.

The was no info on the palace itself or its security, though the latter was thought to be negligible.

Gibbs snorted. Better than nothing but not by far. They'd figure it out as they went.

* * *

Prince Mahmud's patience was really wearing thin now. Nadirah had rebuffed every overture he made to her. She didn't want jewelry, she didn't particularly want the lovely new wardrobe he had purchased for her. She had only one thing on her mind: going back home. That is certainly not was on his mind.

So many weeks had passed and she was still a challenge. Never had he encountered anyone so stubborn, much less a woman. It was the ancient custom in his world and culture for women be submissive, available at all times to bring pleasure to her man, whether it was to share a simple meal or something more.

From windows of his extensive apartment, Mahmud had seen his Nadirah out on the back lawn with a puppy that one of the groundskeepers was training to keep desert wildlife away from this place. Her smile had outshone the sun above as she played with the little dog, laughing delightedly. The sun's light played on the movement of her soft dark hair; her every movement graceful and effortless.

Surely there had never been a more beautiful and desirable woman than she. He felt a tingling tightness in his lower stomach as he watched her and wanted more than anything for her to allow him to hold her close, to stroke her soft skin, to have her desire an intimate relationship with him. He almost groaned as his imagination took flight.

Mahmud studied her, beginning to wonder if he could ever bend her to his will. All he knew was that he was totally captivated, intrigued by challenge she presented and he had not had a moment since he first saw her when she did not dominate his mind. He dreamed what it would be like when she finally surrendered to him. He would possess her in body, mind and spirit.

Other companions spent intimate evenings with him, but in his mind he was with his Nadirah, his desert lioness.

He couldn't even remember exactly how many 'wives' there were in their apartments in the far left wing of this palace. Most he had never seen before or after an arranged marriage. He certainly didn't recall their names.

Those 'marriages' had been for the sole purpose of securing an alliance here, a tribal treaty there, or whatever political situation was called for at the time. Arranged marriages solidified an agreement or business deal, nothing more as far as he was concerned. He had no desire to have children from them.

His personal companions however were of his own choice and they were a small select group, chosen for their beauty and his attraction to them at the moment. He enjoyed them and their company. He saw no reason to be anything but kind to them and they responded to that in a most positive way he could desire. He was content with his life as it was. Or had been until Nadirah.

However, the very thought of her fanned the flames of his blood like no other, driving him nearly to distraction. The longer she eluded him, the more he wanted her and the harder it was to control himself. He had nearly reached the limits of his restraint.

Making a decision, he summoned Ahmed.

* * *

The desert was blacker than black on this moonless night. Tony was driving the SUV as McGee called out directions to him, keeping them on course as they deviated around various obstacles in their path.

The headlights were shaded so their light was directed only on the desert sand immediately in front of the SUV. It was slow going but it was safer. A light can be seen for many, many miles in the dark desert. So far, they had encountered no one.

Near daylight, they approached the oasis and began to be able to make out the details of the rear of the magnificent palace. Sgt. Andrews, the marine who had actually provisioned and readied the Hummer for them, had been correct in his description of the place. The palace itself was much larger than any of them had actually imagined and everything was maintained in a state of perfection.

Gibbs studied the place. He saw the open-air room adjacent to the pool and mentally agreed with Sgt. Andrews that it would be their best option for silent entry.

At the moment, however, they needed to back away and hide the vehicle behind a sand dune. They would quietly camp out today and just watch until late night. Then they'd make their move.

* * *

Ahmed tapped on the door to Molly's suite. He informed Aneesa that His Highness requested the presence of Nadirah for a swim before lunch. She should meet Prince Mahmud downstairs in two hours.

Molly thought, ' _What now?'_  She wasn't even sure she had a swim suit and if she didn't, a pair of jeans was going to get wet! Anessa assured her that there were several in one of her closet's built-in drawers.

Molly tentatively opened the drawer Anessa indicated and peered inside. This wasn't good at all. Skimpy little scraps of cloth do not constitute a 'swim suit'. She fumed, ' _For a place that values a woman as something somewhere below an old pair of shoes, the men sure seem to be fixated on the physical aspects of anything female. Hypocrites!'  
_

Now, how to get out of this? She carefully examined each one and picked up the two pieces of the one that seemed to offer the most coverage – which was still borderline obscene in her opinion.

Disgruntled, she finally put it on but thwarting Mahmud's plan as much as possible by putting a loose, flowing white silk 'big shirt' over it. Rolling the sleeves up a turn or two, fastening a couple of buttons in the middle to keep it closed, she had managed to cover everything except her legs. Well, they're just legs. Need 'em to walk.

Hair pulled up into the high ponytail she favored, she dug out a pair of sunglasses, slipped on a pair of minimal white sandals, and she was ready. Aneesa told her that towels would be available poolside.

As Molly sat waiting until time for her to go, Aneesa spoke softly, "My sweet Nadirah, please – try to be – at least pleasant today, yes? I'm amazed at how lenient His Highness has been with you, but – I can't help but think – perhaps his patience wears thin?"

Molly looked at her gentle companion. "Aneesa, _my_ patience wears thin! I want my home! I want my dog! I want my friends! I want my Jeep! I want my career! I just don't belong here. If this kind of arrangement is acceptable here, then I don't doubt that there are many who would jump at the chance to be in this position. Why doesn't he understand this and just let me go home? He can run an ad in the paper: 'Companion' position open. Must be willing to be used'."

"Oh, young one, I do not have the answers you want. The only thing of which I am certain is that he desires you greatly and has granted you great latitude so far; more than I have ever seen. However, I cannot imagine how much longer he is going to be denied, my daughter. You must realize this. As much as I wish it, there is nothing I can do to prevent it. You are strong, my little one. You must conquer your fears and accept what is inevitable."

Molly studied her friend's face, thinking,  _'So the guy has the hots for me but somehow I'm not going to let him succeed. All I have to do is stay alive."_

_Survive._

* * *

Molly took her time making her way to the open terrace room, looking around as she walked. This place was stocked with art of all kinds, statuary everywhere you looked. Rich fabrics, enough polished marble to keep an entire industry busy for a long time.

This place was massive, more like an entire town with an army of people just to keep it clean and maintained. All for one man. Molly's sense of right and wrong sprang to life, thinking how many people could be fed, clothed and housed with the money this place had cost and the costs to run it.

When she entered the large, airy terrace room, Mahmud, wearing a swimsuit, was staring out at the lush greenery and beds of carefully tended flowers that surrounded the palace. He was well- built, clearly taking time to work out. Must have a private gym somewhere in here.

He turned as he heard her steps and smiled at her with his arms open. Enveloping her in a big and unexpected hug, holding her close for a long moment. Sensing Molly's body tense, he slowly released her and gestured toward the pool. "Come. Let us enjoy a delightful swim. You do swim?"

"I was raised on the southern coast of North Carolina, right on the Atlantic ocean. Yes, I can swim. I can fish. I can operate a boat. I can clean fish  _and_  I can cook 'em. I can snorkle, I can dive, I can fly an airplane. There are many things I can do  _but I can't go home!"_ Her voice had steadily risen in volume so that the last was an aching declaration that hung in the air.

Some of the light in Mahmud's face faded. Sighing, she turned, looking somewhere in the distance. She had never wanted to be home more than at this moment; she was truly homesick.

To her surprise, the prince placed one hand on her shoulder and turned her back to him. "I am sorry, my Nadirah. I didn't intend to cause unhappy memories." He gently touched her face, almost whispering, "I want you to be happy, my precious jewel."

Molly didn't want to respond to any of that. "Do you have towels?" she asked dully.

"Uh – oh, yes. They will be brought to us. Shall we go in?"

Molly turned and walked to the wide span of marble steps that led into the crystal clear water of the huge pool, her silk shirt softly billowing in the light breeze.

Mahmud watched her with longing. At least she accepted his touch, brief though it was. It was progress. Maybe his patience was paying off and the day was coming when she would welcome his attentions.

"Aren't you going to remove your shirt, my Nadirah?"

"No. I don't want to get sunburned."

Mahmud hadn't considered that her lighter skin would burn badly from the desert sun, whereas his darker skin, inherited from ancient ancestors, protected him well from that threat.

As soon as the water was deep enough Molly stretched out and began swimming with strong, efficient strokes. Reaching the far end of the pool, she flipped over and swam back toward the shallow end, repeating that several times. Then, in about waist deep water, she just floated on her back for a few moments, enjoying the sense of being in the water and feeling refreshed by it.

Her contemplation was suddenly interrupted when strong hands took her by the waist and pulled her hard against a dripping wet Mahmud. Molly's intended thwart of wearing the silk shirt didn't work as well as she had thought. Not when it was wet and clinging to her like a second skin.

Mahmud was barely hanging on to the last shred of his self-control. Instead of hiding her, the shirt was a thousand times more titillating than even the small bikini alone would have been.

As he held her close, Molly suddenly gasped and tried to push herself away from him but was held tight with unyielding arms. Overtaken by his sudden hot fierce physical reaction to her, Mahmud was rapidly losing control.

Suddenly Molly raised both arms straight up, then the rigid sides of her hands smashed down on the spot on each side of the neck that will momentarily paralyze the nerves to the hands and arms.

With a short cry, Mahmud's arms released her and she climbed out of the pool, breathing hard, her eyes on fire.

After only a moment, Mahmud got out of the pool and approached her with hot eyes. He again held her so that one arm pinned both of hers which freed his other hand to begin to slowly explore areas that he had only dreamed about.

Molly manage to turn herself to face the opposite direction and immediately began using tactics and moves she had learned in training to break free of the man's hold, then flipped him over her shoulder so he sailed through the air then landed hard, flat on his back before he even realized what was happening.

Voice deadly low and ice cold, she warned him, "Mahmud, I told you not to mess with me! I'm not one of your little toys. I'm a federal agent and I can defend myself in ways you've never thought of. I'll tell you for the last time:  _don't_ _mess with me! You'll get hurt."  
_

Looking up into her eyes, Mahmud knew she spoke the truth. The only way to have her would be to wait until she herself decided to allow it.

Without a word, he picked himself up, grabbed a large fluffy white towel and fastened it around his middle and walked toward the curving staircase that would take him to his own apartment.

Molly's entire body sagged with relief as she leaned against a tall white marble column for a moment, her heart pounding and hands shaking from the rush of adrenaline that had surged through her. No more swimming! Absolutely not!

The memory of his intrusive hands roaming around her body made a chill of revulsion run through her. Slowly she walked to the stack of big white towels, wrapped one around herself and returned to her apartment.

She couldn't even answer Aneesa's worried questions for a while. Her foster mother was appalled at the story she heard it. Her new daughter wasn't a prude but was very conservative about herself which would make any Arabian family very proud. Nadirah would be a pure woman when she married and Aneesa was very pleased with her charge, but very worried at the same time.

Her very purpose for being in this place to to give pleasure to a member of the royal family. It was contrary to all the traditional values held for daughters and women in this part of the world and Anessa was having a great deal of trouble reconciling one with the other.

Aneesa held the small woman and slightly rocked her, stroking her soft hair, reassuring her, until her trembling stopped. Then Molly hugged the kind woman with sincere affection. "Thank you, Aneesa. You are indeed the mother-of-my-heart."

* * *

From behind a rather high sand dune, Gibbs and DiNozzo were observing the Palace, looking for any clues or pieces of info they might be able to glean.

DiNozzo turned and looked at Gibbs when Gibbs suddenly stiffened with a tiny gasp as he stared through the powerful binoculars.

 _Molly!_  It was all the team leader could do not to collapse to his knees in relief. She's alive! She's here!

He and DiNozzo watched the entire scene between Molly and the one they believed to be the prince. Obviously he wanted intimate physical contact with her, but she wasn't having anything to do with it.

Gibbs had to grin as he saw her flip him through the air. ' _That's my girl!'  
_

Beside him, DiNozzo also had a wide grin on his face. "Way to go, MollyMac! Hey, Boss, did you see how that shirt - "  _WAP!_

"Thanks, Boss. Shutting up now." There were little points of light dancing in front of his eyes for a moment.

Both Balboa and McGee hurried to see what was going on and Tony gave a rather graphic description of what they had seen.

Gibbs shot a death-ray glare in his direction but the SFA wasn't deterred. "I tell ya, I'll never look at our MollyMac in the same way again! The way she took him down? That was  _BOSS!"_

* * *

The only light they had was the very faint light cast by the billions of stars in the moonless Arabian sky. They had flashlights, but didn't dare use them until they were inside.

Careful to avoid tripping over anything, the four men soundlessly crept up to the terrace room, then stood unmoving, listening for any sound – hearing only silence. Evidently there was not an electronic security system, either.

They slipped inside moving cautiously. Not having a clue where in this enormous place Molly may be, Gibbs mostly just followed his instincts as the four glided silently through the sleeping palace.

Yes, everyone was asleep - except Ahmed. He had little free time, even at night. There were many details he had to oversee, many things to inspect. His slippered feet made a slight little sibilant sound on the gleaming marble floors.

Gibbs and team caught the sound just barely in the nick of time, quickly taking refuge behind anything they could find. His mind occupied, Ahmed continued on his way to whatever was next on his list. He was nothing if not thorough in his responsibilities and the prince was quite pleased with him because of it.

Once the man passed, each agent carefully left his hiding place and regrouped where they had left off. The corridor seemed to continue endlessly with so many elaborate closed doors. Each door was silently opened and a quick inspection made as they looked for Molly.

She was tucked into her bed in her lavish suite, but her mind was troubled. It was apparent that Mahmud was intent on a course that she would never permit. But how could she avoid it if he forced the issue? She had to get out of here – but how? And seek help where? If anyone found her, they would likely bring her right back.

She was getting disheartened, feeling helpless to avoid the man much longer. What if she hadn't been able to stop him today? Tears tried to form in her eyes. ' _Jethro, where are you? I need you here now!'_

* * *

Gibbs knew this door-to-door stuff wasn't going to work. Sooner or later they would run into somebody and they'd probably have a fight on their hands. If he only knew it, he was less than a hundred feet from her.

Having no idea how close they really were, the team backtracked to the terrace room. Gibbs pointed up the curving staircase and the others nodded, understanding his plan. They'd find the prince and make him take them to Molly.

They were about halfway up the staircase when they heard the sounds of slipper-clad feet whispering across the highly polished marble floor. Too late to get back down to the terrace level, they crouched down as low as possible on the stairs, barely breathing as the tall houseman paused as he read a list in his hand, seemed to change his mind about going downstairs and reversed his course.

Tony felt as if his heart was going into defib from beating so fast. A quick glance took in Tim's pale face and Balboa's closed eyes and silent deep breathing as he made his own recovery. In contrast, Gibbs never seemed more cool and in control. Had to be that Marine Corps training.

As soon as Ahmed left, the four hurried up the staircase and headed down a corridor in the opposite direction. Only a moment later, they came to an elaborately carved door of some rare exotic wood. Gibbs took a very quick moment to appreciatively rub his hand across it, then nodded for Balboa to turn the knob.

A fast glance indicated that this was the largest suite they had yet encountered. Easing in, Gibbs risked turning on his flashlight once the door had been reclosed. Opulance oozed from every square inch of this room which seemed to be a living area, a living room if 'room' was even the correct word for a space this vast.

All of them felt this had to be the right place and the others silently shared that thought.

There was another space that appeared to be a private dining room, there was a study with book-lined walls, there was a bedroom that could have been mistaken for a ballroom. And in that bed at the far end was their target, sound asleep.

They crept over to what had to have been a custom-made bed that could have easily slept four or more people.

Gibbs pointed to McGee then to the other side of the bed. Then he pointed to DiNozzo and Balboa to stand with him on the side where the prince slept.

Gibbs slowly reached down then clamped a strong, calloused hand over the sleeping man's nose and mouth.

Instantly the prince awakened with large frightened eyes as he saw his captor and others pointing powerful rifles at him.

Gibbs spoke very softly. "We're not here to hurt you. Sound an alarm and that is not guaranteed, understand?"

Mahmud nodded and Gibbs slowly removed his hand. Gibbs saw the prince scrutinizing his face and silver hair. A very small smile crossed Mahmud's face as he said very quietly, "She said I should beware of the one with the silver hair. She said you were something like a bad-tempered bear with a toothache."

"Where is she?"

"Her apartment is on the first fl -"

At that moment, Ahmed entered the prince's apartment with the intent of laying out the prince's clothing for the next day as he always did.

Entering the bedroom, the chief houseman stopped with an astonished gaping mouth. " _MY PRINCE!_  Are you -"

"Ahmed, please be quiet. There is no need to awaken everyone. Go to my Nadirah's apartment and very gently lead her here."

Ahmed looked at the hard expressions on the faces of these armed men and was reluctant to leave a son of the family he had served all of his sixty-one years.

Seeing the man's hesitation, Mahmud said, "I am quite well, my friend. Now go. Nadirah will be overjoyed."

Ahmed turned though it was quite clear that he did not want to leave but at last he did as he had been ordered.

Downstairs, he tapped on the apartment door, then tapped harder before a sleepy-eyed Anessa opened it and received Ahmed's whispered instructions.

Aneesa was most reluctant to wake her sleeping charge. She had never known the prince to call for a companion so late in the night, but then, she wasn't the only 'house mother' on the staff. Her heart was weighed with terrible sadness. She knew that Molly wasn't about to submit to the prince and she hated for her to be forced into it. She made up her mind that she was going with the girl.

She touched Molly's shoulder very gently and whispered her name. "Molly. Wake up, my daughter. We have been summoned and must go."

"Wha-? Gonna sleep."

"No, no, my child. Get up and comb your hair. I'll get your robe."

"Aneesa, where.....? – - oh, no."

"Yes, my sweet girl. I am going with you."

Molly's eyes teared up. "Aneesa, I've kept him away for so long. Why now? I – I won't permit it. As a federal agent, I was trained in many types of self-defense. I simply won't allow him to do this to me."

Aneesa slipped an stunning white silk robe on her and tied the belt around her small waist. Delicate embroidery appeared around the neck and on the lower edges of the sleeves, but on the back was a magnificent floral design embroidered in glorious colors.

Slippers on her feet, Molly was ready to go do whatever battle was necessary. If anyone who knew her saw the set of her chin and the firmness of her mouth, they would start backing up and looking for an escape.

Tying the sash of her own robe, Aneesa took Molly's arm and told Ahmed, "I'm going with her."

Ahmed was surprised then he realized that the two women had misunderstood the reason for the summons. When they reached the prince's apartment, Molly's eyes were blazing with fury and was ready to let him have it with both barrels, when suddenly she saw others – including a beautiful tall man with soft silver hair.

She gasped loudly then raced toward him and literally leaped into his arms. They held each other as tightly as possible as Gibbs slightly rocked her from side to side. She was laughing and crying at the same time, unable to say anything except, "I knew you'd come! I knew!"

Gibbs had just buried his face in her hair and the side of her neck, barely able to prevent his own tears of happiness and extreme relief from escaping.

When he looked up at the prince, now in his own robe, standing between DiNozzo and Balboa, Mahmud said very, very softly, "Sir, I hope you are aware of the priceless jewel you have. I would give everything I have to possess her. But that is not to be."

Aneesa's emotions were swinging from deep despair to confusion to things she couldn't even identify. She knew that these Americans were the men of which Molly spoke. Her team, she called them.

Then it hit her that her daughter was leaving. She would never see her again – and her heart broke. She held herself still and quiet from a life-time of training, but she was truly distraught.

* * *

It was clear that the prince had unconditionally surrendered Molly. He bowed to her offering deep apologies, hoping that she wouldn't take one of these powerful rifles and shoot him.

Mahmud also apologized to Gibbs and the team. "It is clear that Nadirah is dearly loved and belongs with you. I beg your forgiveness. I can have you flown anywhere you'd like to go whenever you like. Until that time, I would consider it an honor to be your host. Guests suites are ready anytime you'd like to use them."

Gibbs responded curtly, "We'll be leaving as soon as Molly is ready. We have transportation thanks to the United States Marines."

Mahmud nodded. He couldn't blame these men for neither liking nor trusting him. Very quietly he ordered Ahmed to assist his guests with anything they wanted, then said, "I'll be in my apartment if I'm wanted."

In Molly's apartment, they ate an early breakfast of fresh fruit, cheeses, eggs, coffee, freshly squeezed juice and their choice of breads and pastries along with tea or strong Middle Eastern coffee.

It was there that they had a chance to talk privately after Molly changed into a pair of jeans, a green and blue plaid shirt and an ankle high pair of black boots.

Gibbs smiled as she walked out from her room. He stood before her and pulled out her badge and clipped it to her belt. DiNozzo put her holster on her, then McGee handed her her Sig. Standing where she was, tears flooded from her eyes. This moment summed up so much. Her team had come and found her and was returning her to the life from which she had been taken.

Gibbs wouldn't be separated from Molly and he didn't care who knew it. For too long, he had privately feared that she was gone forever; he had been desperate to find her.

"You are safe forever, Molly. We got intel that Alvada is dead," he told her.

"I know," she responded with a slight smile.

Gibbs looked at her with that eyebrow raised, his eyes slight narrowed. "You know?"

"Yeah. And one of the kidnappers."

Slow smiles of understanding broke out on the faces of her team.

"You're just too bad, ya know that, MollyMac?" DiNozzo chortled. So often she thought she'd never hear that nickname again.

Molly walked to the sad Aneesa and held her for long, long moments. "Aneesa, thank you for all you have done for me. I'm sorry I couldn't follow your instruction, but you know that I am simply not cut out for this life. You really have been a mother to me and I love you."

Retrieving something from her room, Molly told Aneesa, "I want you to have this. It is my gift to you." The gold lioness necklace was fastened around the kind woman's neck. She shed tears as she watched Molly prepare to leave but seeing her with all the emblems of her official position in the United States government, she also felt proud to have such a brave daughter that she had come to love so dearly.

Learning how to contact Aneesa by mail, a last hug, the Americans left. Mahmud watched from his apartment as they walked past the pool and out into the desert beyond. She had won as she had told him she would.

* * *

In MTAC, Director Morrow was fascinated as Special Agent MacKenzie and the rescue team debriefed in detail before the heads of the FBI, the CIA, DHS and NSA. Theirs was a remarkable story of bravery, courage and determination and he was extraordinarily proud of each one of them.

Afterward, back in the bullpen, Molly settled at her desk with a sigh of contentment. Roger was in his place beside her desk and there was a stack of cold case files waiting to be studied.

She had cleared a session with the agency psychiatrist and was finally deemed ready to return to full-time duty. She had never heard anything so welcome!

She could go and come as she pleased, drive wherever she wanted, do anything she wanted – at last. Alvada would never be a threat to her again.

Life was good. So very good.

* * *

The cemetery was a pleasant place where many huge trees and careful landscaping offered peace, quiet and the cool of shade. Dressed in black, a family sat as a priest wearing his vestments conducted the funeral ritual of this dearly departed soul, though he personally felt there was little chance of him ever seeing the gates of Heaven.

Ceremony completed, he went to each member of the family to offer his personal condolences. The eyes of the widow, the daughter and a cousin were sincerely heart broken. But as he looked into the eyes of the son, he saw only hardness and hatred.

Carlos Alvada sr was the one he credited with his son's response. Named after his father, the son, now in his early thirties, would undoubtedly follow in his father's footsteps, living a life of violence and lawlessness.

The priest sighed as he made his way back to the car waiting to take him back to the church. He wondered who had earned that degree of hatred from this young man.

* * *

NCIS

The Carolina Connection continues with

Book 1 part 3

~ Reprisal ~

 


End file.
